Hetafata
by Syntax-N
Summary: Ludwig suffers from a terrible curse. Every night, when starlight touches him, he transforms into a monster. When a wish-granting amulet may break the enchantment, he embarks on a quest to steal it from its flighty rightful owner. But Ludwig's brother has more sinister plans for the amulet's power, and a band of mercenaries with their own flaws is out to stop the theft. Fataverse!
1. The Dark Wizard Gilbert

A black eagle with eyes like rubies descended upon the village.

Its arrival was noiseless, yet its presence was noted in intrigue by all who gazed upon its dark figure. The eagle expertly folded its wings and dived toward the damp and dirty paths and wary inhabitants. Golden talons outstretched to claw at the air and feel for any rain on the late summer wind. The rush of air tousled its glossy, black feathers as it continued to dive closer and closer to the ground. It let out a screech of intimidation at a child not too far from its destination. All at once, it flapped its powerful wings and landed to strut among astonished village folk. Its ugly little head bobbed this way and that, peering at those who found it curious. The claws scraped into the mud as it tottered its way around between the villagers' legs.

"The dark wizard," a beer-brewer whispered gruffly to his apprentice. "The black eagle is his familiar. It always comes before he does. Be on your guard for mischief." The boy nodded in return and averted his gaze from the bird, which took interest in the conversation. It hobbled over to the barrels of beer and screeched.

The beer-brewer's eyes grew wide. "Pour 'im a mug of beer," he told the apprentice. "If the eagle's happy, the wizard will have one less reason to curse the village.

The apprentice did as he was told. He held a sizeable glass mug under the tap and filled it to the brim with bubbling beer. The eagle hopped to where the mug was set on the ground. It ruffled its feathers and studied the drink. Seeing it as an offer of good will, the eagle threw its head down into the barm. The menacing beak pecked and slurped enormous gulps. The bird threw its head back to swallow with a satisfied gleam in its ruby eyes. After consuming half the mug, it hobbled on drunkenly toward the edge of town and flew deep into the forest.

 _Familiar. They still think the eagle is the familiar. Don't they know how awesome that eagle is? Well, I suppose it just adds to the intrigue. But what about "dark wizard?"_ Awesome _wizard. Awesome wizard who entertains himself with awesome little spells that unawesome people don't think are funny. Mm, that beer was good. I'll have to buy some for Lud and me. It's better than the stuff back home._ The scrambled thoughts rumbled through the vile bird's head as it searched in and around trees. A black and blue robe was hidden somewhere, but such inconsequentially regarded facts as to where it was hidden could only frustrate it further. Its newly drunken body swayed and faltered as it tried to maintain a steady height above the ground. Once or twice it almost crashed into the greenery.

A glitter caught the bird's eye. It landed and tugged on a soft square of fabric in a hollowed tree. It pulled and pulled until the whole robe had emerged and lay ragged on the ground. The eagle's head twitched, and its eyes darted to and fro to see any possible witnesses to its presence. Noting none, the eagle stretched its wings to the sky, and with a gruesome crackling of bones, began to transform.

Its torso grew long and slender. Feathers withered and dissipated to reveal horribly pale skin stretched thin over the bones. The wing-bones thickened and bent while the ends grew into gnarled, bony fingers, each tipped with a claw of a nail. The feathers of its head turned wispy and thinned to snowy white hair that fell into the ruby eyes. Talons shortened. Scaly feet grew broad and flat. Everywhere sinews stretched and muscles swelled and rearranged. The golden beak softened and reshaped into a pointed nose and raw, scarred lips. The eagle's tail shriveled and soon ceased to exist. What once stood as the familiar to the wizard was now the wizard Gilbert himself.

He was not a wand-wielding human, as some insisted he was, and he was not of the fair folk, known for their proficiency in the magical arts. At least, Gilbert was not of the fair folk kindly acknowledged. He was a shapeshifting fairy of darkness, known to the commoners as a changeling. His kind, unfortunately, was ruthless for taking the children of good-natured men and swapping them out with their own, as changeling children were always born deathly ill and horrible to gaze upon. Even as adults, they were hideous creatures when they did not emulate the forms of others. Gilbert was no exception to this grave rule. He was inexorably gaunt and ghostly pale with mangled fangs and blood-red eyes of haunting depth. His dreadfully long, pointed ears twitched in the silence, and he licked his lips out of habit. The stench of beer was rank on his breath.

After pulling the robe on over his featherless nudity, he grasped the hood and threw it over his face to hide his features. Even here in the wilds of the land called Volkerburg, changelings were in danger if they revealed their true selves. Gilbert had been told too many times to simply disguise himself as a villager if he wanted to find merchants, but of course, he was too awesome for lying. Today was a day for the "dark wizard" to remind these people he existed.

Gilbert entered the village with no great announcement of his presence, though it was next to impossible not to give some sort of sign. After all, they were whispering his name and spouting off about curses and arcane magical intrigue. He shuffled along just a little bit faster to get to the other side of the village. It was then, he realized, that it would've probably been smarter to hide his clothing on this side of the village, rather than the far side. However, he had to shrug it off, seeing instead that with the way it had happened, he had gotten to spend more time in his eagle form. It was his favorite, and so reliable for travelling.

"He never shows his face," a woman explained to her daughter. The young girl clutched her mother's chest for protection.

"Is he ugly?"

"No one knows," the woman hastily replied, seeing as Gilbert was in range of hearing them.

"If you saw my awesome face, you'd be so impressed, you'd stand still forever," the wizard remarked. Gilbert grinned under his hood. He had an affinity for cute things, and cute little questions always received answers.

There were days when Gilbert was especially enthralled by instilling fear into the scattered villages. He had learned the tricks of widespread infamy in the shadow of learning how to hide his changeling tendencies. Rumors had their truths. Gilbert was a frequent beguiler, but the stories spreading from tavern to tavern were often exaggerated. His wiles were usually nothing more than enchanting people with his flute until they saw themselves as jaunty little birds. He would watch them scamper around and peck seeds and chirp to the point of hot tears gracing his cheeks. He could create such silliness that by midnight he could walk among them as an ugly, red-eyed fairy, and none would judge him differently.

Gilbert had once been fond of real curses. His changeling body was naturally adept with the darker, high-energy magicks, and his recklessness was uncontrollable. In his youth, he had rejected every thought of being in the place of a cherished child. He found it much more amusing to mess with them as playful payback for chasing him away and threatening to beat him if he came too near. It was a game to Gilbert. He stole books, taught himself to read, and studied the ways of fairy magic to better his brutish deeds. In his frequent terrors, he'd even found a name for himself in "dark wizard." No one knew changelings had respectable names like _Gilbert._ No one could possibly assume one of them had become a successful magic-user outside of a knack for imitation.

Thus, Gilbert had built up the walls of his notorious reputation on his love of troublemaking.

In the present, however, the idea of cursing the common folk was an uneasy notion. A certain incident in the recent past changed his mind about attacking anyone he had no history with. Gilbert had not lain harmful spells on the innocent since then. It was a truly dreadful night when he finally witnessed the damage such magic could cause.

On this particular day, Gilbert had no real plans for cursing anyone at any caliber, though he made mental notes on who seemed the most worthy for the next time he visited this part of the country. There were certain times of the year when special merchants appeared, bearing strange and curious items. Some of them could be of magical use, and some were rare and profitable. One could never tell exactly what a merchant would bring.

Gilbert could always use some new thing to lighten up the room or provide himself an opportunity to wipe the dust off of a small treasure when cleaning. The swollen pockets of his robe clinked with a large number of coins. His brother Ludwig always reprimanded him for spending so much with these merchants. Swindlers, he'd called them.

He was reaching another edge of the village now, and the scent of rare teas caught his attention. Just off to the right of the road was a cart with a horse, and next to them a rather stubborn-looking human with spiked blond hair and a scar adorning his forehead. He sat against a tree, not noticing the wizard and the sound of money. A small rabbit had made a nest in his lap, and he stroked it unmindfully.

"Hey!" Gilbert called out. The merchant ignored him and continued to stare into the foliage.

"Hey, I have money!"

"How much?" The merchant asked without turning his head.

"I'm a wizard. I have lots."

"You don't sound like Basch."

"Wizard Basch? No, I'm the dark wizard Gilbert! Gilbert the Great! The terror of Volkerburg! I am looking to buy from you, and if you don't comply, I will curse you with my awesome curses!"

"I'm not afraid of curses."

"I'll make it so you never sell anything again."

"Why waste your skills on a stranger? A spell that elaborate would take hours to work, and I haven't formally rejected you. It doesn't make sense, but for business purposes, I don't care."

The merchant, despite his attitude, set the rabbit in the grass and took the sheet off his cart. "If you have money, take a look," he said. "And if you don't find anything, I can recommend it to you. If you still don't like it, my sister is an excellent baker and sells her goods, too. If you decide to buy from her, I get ten percent commission because I recommended her. That will have to be paid upfront right here. I have never accepted payable accounts for anything."

"Do I have to pay you to ask what your name is?" Gilbert gruffly put as he rolled his eyes.

"I am called Tim," the merchant said. He took a pipe out and lit it. "I suppose you're into magic stuff. I have books, charms, amulets, healing stones, wands of various shapes and sizes, wards to keep the changelings away, potions, powders, you name it."

"All in that cart?"

"I have a lot of things in the cart. It's bigger on the inside than on the outside," Tim replied.

"What kinds of changeling wards are there?" Gilbert asked. He hid his bony hands in his pockets and made sure to keep his head down.

"Rumor has it they can't stand a pair of scissors. Blades make them anxious since they're so frail, and raw iron can burn their skin. Nails will scare them, too. Another thing is to give off a light magical frequency. Make it strong enough so they get a headache. It makes them crazy. They'll shriek, and for that I sell a charm that can silence them."

"Silence… as in…"

"Stop them from shrieking."

Gilbert let it all sink in. He intended to ask Tim more about his merchandise, but he always checked his facts. Warding with scissors did work. He remembered them sitting menacingly on bedside tables, and the very sight of them would make his skin crawl. A primal instinct made his body and the blades repel with strange, irrational fears.

"Do you have anything scary? I'm a dark wizard. I need to be intimidating."

"I have books of curses. The cart has uncountable volumes. If you have the money, I'll sell them to you."

"Sounds fun," Gilbert lied. He shuffled past Tim and finally got a look in the cart for himself. Books of curses would just be a waste of money. He already owned many volumes, and they gathered dust now that he had given up harmful cursing.

Curiously pushed to the top of the piles were all of the magical articles. The books were stacked neatly and sorted by content. The charms and amulets all hung from chains on hooks lined up in rows. The wands, he presumed, were what the polished wooden boxes contained. It all looked enticing. Tim was an experienced merchant. It would prove difficult to find things of this value elsewhere.

Gilbert was admiring the charms again when he got an idea. It was the wizard Basch who received the highest acclaim for infamy. He was so ruthless that he cursed anyone who trespassed onto his land with horrible, lasting effects. Naturally, Gilbert loathed such terrible prestige, especially when Basch had worked that power on Gilbert's emotions personally, just to show he was serious. He was _not_ an awesome dark wizard. He was nothing but evil.

"What item of yours will make me the most impressive wizard in the land?" Gilbert inquired. He was no longer a true beguiler, but he enjoyed the notion of being known for his great magical abilities and feared more than a recluse like Basch.

"I'll sell you a wand if it's magical strength you're looking for. Some of these were once used by professional wizards, so they're well-made and tested with the strongest spells." Tim scooped up a few of the more ornate boxes and opened them to reveal silvery wands that sparkled in the afternoon light.

"Is that red box a wand, too?" Gilbert asked. He nodded to a polished box partially buried beneath some extra chains.

"It's a wand that doesn't work," Tim said flatly. "It's powerful, though." He picked the box up and opened it to reveal the wand inside. This one was made of shining red wood with a twisting, golden laurel branch engraved into the side. "I can sell it to you as a collector's item, but it's costly. There are some people I know who would kill for this wand."

"How powerful is it?"

"From what I understand, it's a dream wand from the kingdom of Allegria, and it's capable of both light and dark magic concentration. The wands don't work unless they're linked to a magical amulet called a _sogno,_ which can grant the wishes of the holder, no matter how elaborate the request. Fairies don't need to use wands, but these were made as a fashion statement long, long ago for channeling the power of the _sogni_ in a more aesthetic way. The wands also allowed people other than Allegrian fairies to use the _sogni_ for their own interests, and for that reason, they were often stolen and misused. Neither is made anymore. This one was probably stolen some years ago."

"I'll buy the wand _and_ the amulet," Gilbert said hastily. He reached into his pockets and brought out gold coins by the handful. An omnipotent amulet and wand was the end to his collecting. He was sure he could scour the world and never find anything as impressive as this prospect.

"I don't have the amulet. The ones that still exist are well-protected items because of their abilities. You'd have to sweet-talk an Allegrian fairy to get one, and he'd have to be rich. I will take that money from you, though." Tim clasped the box shut and handed it over to Gilbert.

Gilbert frowned under his hood. It was only half of the wondrous possession, and unfortunately, the lesser half. He supposed he could do what Tim had said and ask an Allegrian for the charm, but he was both a dark wizard and a changeling, and Allegrians were fairies of light. The matter easily settled itself, though, seeing as Tim was a very assertive merchant. This wand surely held enormous power when it was used with the amulet, and now it was in the hands of the most feared creature in the world.

"How much for it?"

"Empty your pockets."


	2. Roma

Piyo Fortress was only called a fortress because of its inhabitant. Before it belonged to the dark wizard Gilbert, it had belonged to a wizard called Frederick, who built it and named it _Piyo Tower._ The name related to the din caused by the flocks of birds attending it to roost in the spring and summer. It was a lonely tower in the midst of Volkerburg's luxuriant greenery. Vacant, no one would ever see it, or notice the flight patterns of the birds to its location. It only took the residence of Gilbert and his notoriety to call itself a fortress with the environs of misfortune.

Sharing the fortress with the wizard was a human called Ludwig. He was Gilbert's little brother by a changeling trade, and despite the wizard's diligent efforts to raise and educate him, it was nowadays often Ludwig who stood as Gilbert's voice of reason. The blond and brawny Ludwig was chopping potatoes when Gilbert arrived at Piyo Fortress in the form of the black eagle. The polished, red box was between his talons, and he screeched to announce his return.

"Did you get beer for supper, brother?" Ludwig asked. He slid the potato slices into a boiling pot and reached for salt.

Gilbert, with no voice to reply, began his unsightly transformation. When he was mostly fairy again, he said hoarsely, "No, but I found a man who makes the best beer on this side of the forest."

"Brother, I'm almost done with supper, and we don't have beer. What were you doing besides just _finding_ beer? You were supposed to buy some and bring it back." Ludwig said this before noticing the box next to Gilbert's foot. "Did you deal with merchants?"

Gilbert pouted. "I didn't deal with _merchants._ I dealt with _a merchant._ One merchant."

Ludwig returned the riposte with a cold, blue stare. "Then you have plenty of money left to buy beer, I'm assuming?"

" _Ja,_ obviously," Gilbert replied with a grin.

"You're lying," Ludwig said.

"How could I be lying? I've told you before, I'm too awesome for that. I'm the most honest changeling in the world."

"There's no such thing as an honest changeling," Ludwig said as he slicked back his flaxen hair. "You're always too proud when you're lying, and if you had any more money after buying _that,_ you would have bought that amazing beer and brought it back for us."

"Do you want to see what it is?" Gilbert asked. He smiled innocently and offered the box to his brother, who only rejected the notion.

"Go and put some clothes on, Gilbert," Ludwig sighed.

When they were sitting together at the table, each with his own plate of boiled potatoes and sausage, Gilbert once again brought his purchase to Ludwig's attention. He opened the box and set it on the table in between their plates. The sun was setting now, and a soft, golden ray made the laurel branch engraving glisten. Gilbert said nothing as he waited for any reaction from his brother.

Ludwig put his fork down. "A wand? You've never used a wand before, Gilbert. You're a fairy. What possessed you to buy something completely useless?"

"This is a special wand. It will allow me to use light fairy magic easily," Gilbert said. He bared his fangs in a way that most would mistake for sinister. "It's from the kingdom of Allegria, and when it is paired with a magical amulet, it can grant wishes. An Allegrian fairy doesn't have to use this wand to use the amulet, and I can't use the amulet without this wand. Lud, all we need is that amulet, and we can have anything we want. Anything at all."

Ludwig took the wand out of the box and ran his meaty fingers over the engraving. He flicked it as if casting a spell, much to Gilbert's amusement. He then found something rather odd about the wand that Gilbert had not noticed in the blinding excitement of possessing it.

"There's a name carved into the bottom," he said.

"What?" Gilbert exclaimed. He leaned over his plate so his face was above Ludwig's. Ludwig was pointing to another golden engraving very near the bottom of the shaft. It was minuscule writing, but the four letter name still shone clearly in the evening light.

"Roma," they said together.

"The merchant was right, then. It must have been stolen from this Roma chick."

"You might as well give it back to her if you don't have the amulet that goes with it. Honestly, Gilbert, you don't know that if we had the amulet it would work, or if you would know how to use it properly. You bought this from a mysterious merchant who probably fabricated information to make a profit. For all we know, this is a painted stick meant for children to play with."

"It's _Roma's_ painted stick," Gilbert said as he clicked his claws on the table, "and I bet Roma has the amulet. The _sogno._ We get that from her, and I'll learn how to use the wand, so I can use the amulet. Lud, we could wish up the best beer in the _world."_

"How do you even know that Roma is a woman?"

Gilbert snatched the wand out of Ludwig's hand. "Her name is engraved all pretty in the wood, and what kind of man-fairy would use a wand with a plant on it?"

"It's not flowers. It's a branch."

"Her name is _Roma,"_ Gilbert stressed.

"You won't feel bad about stealing Roma's amulet from her for your selfish desires instead of giving the wand back?"

At this comment, Gilbert's smile grew truly sinister. His deathly pale skin stretched even tighter around his malicious countenance. "I'm not in the wizardly game for impressing damsels and doing deeds of kindness, Lud. I'm in it for the infamy, or at least the humor in role-playing. Any blatant good deed would be a scar on my dark name. The wizard who is alone and has done nothing good for anyone is always the most intimidating. That's why I'll always be one hundred times better and badder than Basch. He lives with his adopted little sister, the witch Lili. The scar on his dark name is that he saved her life and takes care of her. When I have that amulet, he'll be sorry he ever thought of cursing you. In fact, we'll wish your curse away just to stick it in his face. You'll never be the dog-man again, Lud."

Ludwig was puzzled by Gilbert's reasoning. "You aren't alone, though. You live with me, and I'm your adopted sibling whom you raised from a baby. That's blatant kindness," he said.

"I don't see how my brotherly love towards you puts a scar on my name. That's all I meant. You're no longer a baby. You're strong like myself. I'm not showing compassion for someone who is weaker than me. From afar, it doesn't even look like you're my _little_ brother. It's like we're partners in crime, so I'm not weak for showing kindness to you. Even if I am a little weak for it, it's the exception I make because I love you, little brother."

"You're still weak in the sense that at night I transform into the dog-man. People might have the notion that you aren't strong enough to guard the fortress by yourself, so you need a creature to help guard it for you."

"Your curse only makes me _more_ intimidating, Lud. During the day, Piyo Fortress has an awesome aura of danger, and at night, the dark wizard's dog-man roams the woods and chases down those who come close. One could almost say I cursed you myself. No, we are equal in strength, Lud. We are equal as brothers and as monsters."

Ludwig stiffened. To hear Gilbert call the curse Ludwig had received from Basch nothing but advantageous was as disheartening as it was motivating. He stared at Gilbert for a few seconds, and once again needed to remind himself that his brother was a changeling, and thoughtless, irrational statements were only a part of his nature.

"Brother, I want you to listen to me," Ludwig began softly. "I want you to write a letter to this 'Roma.' Find out if she has the amulet, but don't say that you want to steal it or that you're the 'awesome dark wizard Gilbert.' Don't tell her you're a wizard at all. Brother, are you listening?"

The changeling turned his head away from the babbling of finches coming from outside. " _Ja?"_

"If she writes back, and we can absolutely prove she has the amulet, _I_ will go through the trouble of getting it from her for you. That way, you can have all the fun you want with the villagers, and I won't be here to yell at you for coming home drunk, though you should never come home drunk! Your body is too fragile! Besides, I've been wanting some adventure in my life, lately. I read often of countries like Allegria and Amotoile. I've never been to either of them. It could be healthy for me."

Gilbert rubbed his hands together. "Sounds good. If you work on that project for me, I can work on expanding my oh-so-terrible reputation here in Volkerburg."

"You won't be expanding anything until this tower is stocked with beer, and I'm not doing anything until we know Roma has the amulet."

"Deal," Gilbert replied eagerly. He wolfed down two more helpings of potatoes messily and scampered up the stairs to grab a quill and ink for the letter.

When he was done, it read as such.

 _Dear Roma of Allegria,_

 _My name is Gilbert. I am a collector and historian of magical items hailing from the land of Volkerburg, and I have recently come across a super interesting thing that I think belongs to you. This item is a wand engraved with a gold branch, and the name, "Roma." I know that it's an Allegrian dream wand, and I'm writing to know if you know anything about an amulet called a_ sogno, _which when paired with this wand, allows people other than Allegrian fairies to use it to grant wishes. This sounds awesome, and I'm wondering if I could talk with you more upon hearing that this wand really is yours, and you also have the amulet. I am willing to return the wand in exchange for a little talk about how it was used and whatnot, (and also about that wish-granting amulet.) I don't know much about the magic of Allegria. My home lies in a remote part of the forest, and all worldly travelers visiting me are merchants. That is how I got the wand. I think it was stolen from you, and I was fortunate to find your name on it. I eagerly await your thoughts on the subject._

 _Sincerely, Gilbert of Volkerburg_

He read it to Ludwig the following morning, and his brother contemplated its words for a while after hearing them. Ludwig thought the whole concept was absurd. Of course there would be replies. They would come from young Allegrian tricksters who wanted to get their hands on an old wand and sell it for profit. Perhaps the wand was true and a reply would come from someone requesting Gilbert just keep it, as the wand wasn't absolutely necessary for a fairy to use the _sogno,_ and if wand and amulet were together, anyone could misuse them. Perhaps the wand really was nothing more than a painted stick in an embellished box, and the letter would only cause confusion to whomever received it.

Whatever the case, Ludwig was interested on a single sliver of hope that it in fact was a real wand of power, and the _sogno_ was in reach. He wanted to undo his curse, and never have to become the bad-tempered dog-man again, as much as he liked the strength and heightened senses the form gave him. It was Ludwig who accidentally trespassed onto the environs of Basch's castle those short few years ago. Every night since, if a silver strand of starlight were to touch him, he would grow into a creature with the smarts of a man, but the nature and judgement of a wild dog. It was for this reason that Gilbert vowed to never again curse the innocent.

"I like it, Gilbert," he finally said with hopeful confidence in his brother's fabrication. "Who is it addressed to on the outside?"

"Roma of Allegria," Gilbert replied.

"How will you deliver it? Are you going to fly all the way to Allegria? The appearance of a red-eyed eagle may confirm to them that the letter is full of lies."

"I can turn into a pigeon. Pigeons are friendly and harmless, and they deliver letters!"

"What about that little yellow bird you like petting so much?"

"Oh, that one's so cute!" Gilbert chortled. "It's such a tiny bird, though. I don't know if I could fly that far on little wings."

"I didn't mean become the little bird. I meant use it to send the letter. It's smart, isn't it? I thought you enchanted it to deliver letters for you some time ago. I've sent letters with it to great distances. You're so obsessed with being a bird that you never use them."

Gilbert gasped and ran to the window excitedly, all the while tightly grasping the letter until it was wrinkled in his hand. He let out a strange whistle that was similar to a flute, but buzzing and sharp. Plants and trees all around the fortress exploded and hundreds of birds broke out to encircle the tower and scatter. The air soon filled with a multitude of chirps and songs. Gilbert directed his whistle to a small, yellow bird with a proud chest and affable chubby cheeks. He offered the letter like a flag. The bird dove down and scooped it up in its beak. It perched on Gilbert's finger to wait for instruction.

"Take it to Roma of Allegria," the changeling advised. He gave the bird a little nuzzle with his forehead and petted its feathers. The bird nodded its head as if it understood, and flew away quickly toward the southwest. The changeling watched it until it was nothing but a speck amid the blueness of a new day's sky.

"Brother, I'm going to the library today. How about you go and buy some beer for us?" Ludwig asked.

"I don't have any money left," Gilbert said dreamily.

"Thank you for being honest about it."


	3. The Fairy in the Box

Hot, moist breath condensed onto Gilbert's neck, and he felt a wet nose nuzzling his cheek. Sudden light from a candle pained his sensitive eyes. He rolled over to the other side of the bed with a groan, and was startled as his blanket was ripped off of him and flung across the room by a thick set of claws. The odor of the dog-man's breath finally drove him to sit up and accept that Ludwig was at his bedside.

"What?" Gilbert whined.

"The sun hasn't risen yet, but I thought you'd like to hear this," Ludwig replied in a menacingly deep, distorted voice. Gilbert turned his head to look at the beast. Ludwig was over seven feet tall, as opposed to his nearly six. Except for black patches on his face, back and tail, his whole body was covered in flowing, fluffy, light brown fur. Prominent, pointed ears and a long muzzle had replaced his face's human features. Of his humanness, he only retained his icy blue eyes and ability to speak.

"Did you chase a squirrel and catch it? I thought we talked about this," Gilbert groaned sleepily.

Ludwig flinched in embarrassment. The memory of the last time he'd done such a thing came back to him. "No. Nothing of the sort. Your letter has received a reply."

"The letter I sent to Roma?" Gilbert eyed the letter with intrigue. It had been nearly a fortnight since he'd sent the first one, and even he hadn't been expecting a reply this quickly.

" _Ja,"_ Ludwig said as he held it higher. The wax seal was imprinted with a laurel branch, and Gilbert could see the name "Roma" scribbled on the parchment.

"Let me read that!" The changeling shouted as he tore the letter away from the dog-man. He opened it wider and came face to face with confused, looping penmanship. The entirety of the letter, he presumed, was written so quickly that the paragraphs could not be straight down the page. Its message slanted until the name signed at the bottom was crammed into the corner. "This doesn't say 'Roma,'" he said, puzzled.

"Read it. It's actually very interesting. I didn't expect anything like this."

Gilbert took the candle from Ludwig and set it on his side table. Aloud, he read the reply.

" _Gilbert,_

 _I had no idea that there was a wand with the name "Roma" on it and a golden branch, but if you have one, it must have belonged to my Grandpa Roma! He used to own some wands like that, and I don't recall coming across any after he passed away many years ago. As you can see, he can't really reply to your letter, but I can! I am the heir to the House of Roma, and my name is Feliciano. The laurel branch is the symbol of my house._

 _As for an amulet called a_ sogno, _I'm a little confused. I didn't know that there was something able to grant wishes from Allegria. My grandpa used to tell me stories when I was little, but I've never had any formal magical schooling in Allegria. In fact, for most of my youth, I lived in Volkerburg like you, where winged fairies are few and far between. Nowadays the fairies who live in Allegria don't even use wands to look cool, so I couldn't tell you any history about neither the wand nor the amulet. I'm so sorry._

 _I would like to help you though, if you would help me. When I was very young, not too long before my grandpa died, he told me he had hidden a wonderful and powerful treasure, and that I would have to find it when I was older. He never told me what it was. When I received your letter, I thought that maybe this amulet you wrote about is that treasure! It makes sense, because he might have wanted me to have the wand and later find the amulet, but because the wand was stolen, I never got to inherit it and start searching._

 _I've never been one for adventure myself, but if you're really interested in magical items from my kingdom, I think I'd be willing to go and find what my grandpa wanted me to find, and you could come with me! I would wait for a reply, but I got so excited that I went to Amotoile. That's where my letter comes to you from. I sent your adorable bird back with it. I hope that we can meet in a little city on the border between Amotoile and Volkerburg called Lafée. It's really no trouble. I go there often because I like to paint the scenery. We can talk more when you arrive!_

 _Love, Feliciano Vargas Roma"_

Gilbert stared wide-eyed at the text. "He seems passionate, but he doesn't have the amulet. That's can't help us."

"His letter proves that the wand isn't a painted stick. It's really from Allegria, and it sounds like it belonged to a powerful fairy if Roma was the patriarch of a family."

"I suppose the patriarch of a family wouldn't mess around. The merchant I bought the wand from said that the _sogno_ amulets that still exist are guarded heavily because of their powers. It wouldn't be farfetched to say that Roma hid it away until his heir was old enough to take care of it."

"Do you still want it, brother? You said before that you will do nothing kind for anyone, but now we know who we're dealing with. If it's something this young fairy is supposed to have, I believe he has every right to it."

Gilbert sat silent for a long time with his head between his knees. He closed his eyes and gave several frustrated breaths, trying to come to a conclusion on the right thing to do. Ludwig cocked an ear to the side and waited. The wand lay in its box on a window sill above his bed. It was an early morning wherein dark, soupy clouds had moved in to obscure the sky, and no light could make it through to the ground. Without any incentive, the wand's colors were dull, and the golden laurel branch only revealed itself in the flickering of the candlelight.

Gilbert reached up and took the wand from its box. He turned it over in his hands and fixed his gaze on the name in the wood _._ The sight of it the first time was only a joke to him. He was adamant in his excitement to steal the amulet from Roma. Now, the name was strange, and somewhat weighty in his mind. Gilbert's first thought upon reading the letter from Feliciano was that it could be easy to simply go and find Roma's amulet for himself, if it wasn't in the young fairy's immediate possession, but Feliciano had a familial connection to Roma. Gilbert feared it would be vastly simpler to find the amulet if Feliciano was involved. All these thoughts roiled through the changeling's mind. The sleep he was missing stung his weary eyes, and his body tingled in longing to return to rest.

"You might as well go talk to him," he said as he laid his head back on the pillow.

"You do want the amulet?"

"If you can find it, then yes, I do want it. I never said we have to keep it forever once we have it. You want to undo your curse, and I want to drink the most delicious beer ever brewed, and be the most fearsome wizard in Volkerburg. If I want to use it to get close to Basch and get revenge on him for cursing you later on, then so be it."

"You can have anything your heart desires, and you choose beer and notoriety?"

"Ludwig, Ludwig, my sweet little brother, you must understand something. When you become as awesome as me, there is little you really need to wish for. Except perhaps an army of hundreds and hundreds of little yellow birds.

"But that is a subject for another time. I'll figure out what I want to wish for once I hear you've found the amulet. You're the one who wanted to go on an adventure, so go on an adventure. If that fairy is in Amotoile, he shouldn't be there for nothing."

Ludwig retrieved his brother's blanket, and fought every second to carry it in his hands instead of his mouth. He covered Gilbert back up and brushed strands of snowy-white hair from his eyes. Gilbert gave a closed-eyes smirk and smartly repeated his brother's words. "Don't tell him you're the brother of a dark wizard. Don't tell him you're the brother of a wizard at all. You're simply the brother of Gilbert the collector. You have no intention of stealing anything from anyone. You're just a nice fellow from Volkerburg who wants to help a fairy find his inheritance. Feliciano invited me, and I'm letting you go."

 _"Danke, Bruder."_

" _Ja."_

Neither changeling nor dog-man noticed the daunting yet prestigious eagle that eyed them from the window on the far side of the room.

At sunrise, Ludwig became fully human again, as was the pattern of his curse. He left Piyo Fortress in the afternoon, after making absolutely sure that Gilbert had stocked the beer cabinets. He carried with him the wand and Feliciano's letter, in order to properly identify himself as the one who possessed them.

Gilbert was awfully clingy as Ludwig walked down the trail away from the fortress. Ludwig had to keep reminding him that he could communicate through the yellow bird, and if need be, transform into a creature that could travel fast and check up on him. He advised Gilbert to not use the form of the black eagle, as that would only cause suspicion to Feliciano and anyone else he associated with on his trip. So, with a flurry of farewells and an eternity of "Why don't you just come with and be a human with me?" "No, I have to watch the chickens," the adventure had begun.

* * *

Another week and a half passed, and Ludwig was certain he was close to the border with Amotoile. He had been studying it in one of the books he'd brought along. The Republic of Amotoile was a country of the fashionable world that boasted everywhere its unique cuisine, art, and love of romance. It had even established friendly trade with the lands beyond the sea. Like Volkerburg, its inhabitants were largely humans. Amotoile was known for a stark rivalry with fairies, most notably the wingless folk from the Isle of Rain.

His research returned to his consciousness in the sweltering last breaths of the summer months. He raked back greasy, disheveled blond hair and hoped that he could find a river nearby to rinse the sweat from his face. He knew Volkerburg well enough to find villages to stay in, but the first leg of his journey had been largely on foot through the wilderness. It was only through the assistance of a fellow traveler that he knew he was going in the direction of a town called Lafée on the edge of Amotoile. Before he'd left, he'd written a reply himself to Feliciano, stating that Gilbert had fallen ill and he was going in his place, so the fairy could have assurance of their meeting. He certainly hoped that the fairies of Allegria were not impatient.

Ludwig pushed up his sleeves and continued to trod on through the thick shrubbery. He was on the lookout for an almost perfectly round clearing, which he knew would lead him to the town. A sharp stick prodded him in the leg, and he swore under heaving breaths. He wrestled the stick out of his boot and examined it. The wood was smooth under his fingers. It was a contrast to the lumpy ground and knobby branches he'd used as his bed in the past week. Even as the dog-man, he found it unfamiliar and uncomfortable to sleep on something so wild and far from Gilbert's rasping snores.

With the stick in mind, Ludwig wiped a moistened hand on his shirt and pulled out Roma's wand. The wood of its composition was denser than that of the stick. Without the amulet, it really was just as much of a stick as the other and only special because of its deep red color and engravings. He carried one in each hand for a while as he walked just to see how each one compared further in appearance.

Frustration settled in on Ludwig when the sun began to beat low in the sky, and he had still not found any more signs or clearings. He sat on a sizeable rock covered in lichen and began to munch on cold sausage and a nearly raw potato. The tastes of them uncooked were disappointing, which only exacerbated unhappiness in his situation. Out of boredom and the need for distraction, he brought out the book he'd been reading about Amotoile and the surrounding countries. He had only read three paragraphs out of the current chapter when his shoulders suddenly tensed and snapped. A soft sound of crying had begun to nag at his ears from out of nowhere. Ludwig peered around him, but saw no one.

"Show yourself," he commanded. He drew his short sword and explored the perimeter of his resting place to a greater distance. The only reply was a whimper.

Ludwig noticed something odd out of the corner of his eye. Beyond a rather thick tree was a texture of wood that didn't match the surrounding bark and logs. This wood had been touched by man, and its shape had been changed to perfectly rectangular. Running over with his sword still in hand, he saw that it was an enormous wooden box, and the source of the strange whimpering. All noise coming from it ceased as he approached.

"Is someone _in_ there?" He asked himself aloud.

"No," someone replied, blatantly from inside the box.

"Come out."

"No!" The voice cried. It was meek and annoyingly high-pitched. "Don't hurt me! It's not true! I'm not rich! I'm _not!_ My life doesn't have anything to offer you! You would have to make pasta all the time, and even though it's delicious, you might not like it as much as me, and you wouldn't be happy!"

"Who are you, and why do you think I want to steal from you!?" Ludwig raised his short sword, but then saw that the top of the box was not nailed down. He removed the lid to see the inhabitant, who only screamed louder.

"Don't steal my life! Please! You wouldn't attack a guy who's got his wing stuck in a box, anyway, right!?"

"No! No I wouldn't! Come to your senses and tell me who you are!"

The young man in the box sobbed softly until the tips of his auburn hair were wet with tears. Ludwig knelt down and leaned over the box to get a better look at him. Upon closer inspection, he saw that this man indeed had one of his wings caught in the corner of the box. All surprise to that notion was suppressed by the discovery that this young man was in fact winged, just as he'd mentioned. Four long and curved, tannish-gold wings extended through the fabric of his toga from his back down behind him. They were delicately thin and glittered in the light with an almost entrancing sheen. As a complement, his ears were sharply pointed, and a stray curl of hair stuck straight out of the left side of his head as if by magic.

The winged man was so upset and confused that he didn't notice Ludwig bend down behind the box and grab the caught wing. It was surprisingly dense compared to its appearance, and he could make out the tiniest of capillaries extending through it. Still, it seemed fragile, and had the texture of glass. Ludwig took the care of wiping his sweat-and-starch-covered hand on his shirt before touching it again. Gently, he pushed the tip of the wing down and out of the cramped space it was caught in.

"Calm down. I got your wing out. You're free."

"Is it gone?" The winged man asked hysterically. "Is it gone, or are you _it?_ Please tell me."

"What am I supposed to be?"

"A changeling: an evil dark fairy that can turn into others."

"I'm not a changeling. Why would you think that?"

Slowly, the winged man cracked open one eye and then the other. They were a brilliant amber-gold to match his wings. Something like stardust glimmered in each one. He blinked and carefully turned around to see that his wing was free of the box. He then looked at Ludwig and gave a sigh of relief.

"There was a changeling in the village. People were yelling about him. I wanted to fly away, but I was scared that he might come after me and turn into me, and that he would fly faster, so I ran into the forest and hid in this box. Then my wing got stuck. I thought maybe you were the changeling, and you wanted to take my place and leave me somewhere unconscious while you pretended to be me!" The winged man trembled at the potency of his imagination.

"You can fly?" Ludwig asked, astonished. It was obvious that the winged man had such a power, but imagining it was still a fantastic notion.

The winged man instantly perked up. He stood up and stepped out of the box. His two larger wings reached from his shoulder blades to his ankles. "Yeah! Haven't you ever seen a fairy before?"

Ludwig marveled at the strange appendages. "Not a winged one."

"Sounds like you need to get out more, then. Where are you from? I was hanging out in Amotoile for a while waiting for some guy I don't even know, but I'm from Allegria! It's so pretty, and fairies are always singing, and there are beautiful girls everywhere! Do you like beautiful girls? I like telling them about my pasta-making skills, but I haven't had much success in inviting one over to my place."

On and on he rambled in a delightful accent that lilted and trilled, until Ludwig noticed he was wearing a hair clip of pure gold, and it just happened to be yet another thing shaped like a laurel branch.

"You would not happen to be from the House of Roma, would you? A Feliciano?" Ludwig interrupted.

The winged man laughed. "Sì! That would be me! Oh... no... y-you aren't the changeling, are you? You may have fooled me earlier, but I know magical spells that can keep you away! And I don't even have my white flag! This isn't fair! Don't hurt me, please!"

"I'm not the changeling. I'm the man from Volkerburg you were waiting for. I'm Gilbert's brother Ludwig. He couldn't come. Terribly sick, of course."

"You're the one I'm supposed to meet? Oh, I'm so sorry! And I'm sorry about your brother. Isn't there anyone to take care of him while you're gone? If my big brother was sick, I'd make him pasta and fluff his pillows. Is he staying with family?"

"He should be fine by himself. It's a simple cold, but his… allergies would have only made it worse if he ventured out."

"That's too bad. I did want to meet him. He seemed so nice in his letter."

 _You would never want to meet Gilbert,_ Ludwig thought to himself. Internally, he smirked.

"So, do you want to go back to Lafée with me? This is a bit of an awkward place to really get to know each other. Hey, my lute!" Feliciano dashed to a space between the trees where a decorated lute had been dropped. He slung the instrument over his shoulders. "That feels better. I must have thrown it while running. This thing is priceless to me."

Ludwig looked at the sky. The sun was low enough that he could judge when it would be setting. If he stayed out of the starlight, he would be fine. His curse was not demanding, and he wouldn't have any urges to go outside if he didn't want to. However, he didn't know what kind of housing Feliciano was using in the town. "Do you like camping?" He asked the fairy. "I can build a fire here. I think if would be better to go into town in the morning."

"It's not far. It's very fast to get there. I would just go over those trees over there, and… oh, silly me. You can't fly, can you?"

"No, I can't. And I'm not a changeling, so I can't just copy you. I'm proud to say that I'm a human."

Feliciano shuddered at the thought of changelings, but agreed. "I suppose I can stay here for the night, though it might get cold, and I'm not used to sleeping on the ground. Maybe the changeling is still in the town. It could be better to stay out here. My House is pretty well-known, and if a changeling was after anyone in the town, it would be me." His countenance turned disappointed, and his wings drooped even further.

"Look at this," Ludwig said. In an attempt to brighten the young fairy's mood and develop trust, he brought out the wand and showed it to him.

Feliciano's eyes brightened. "That's the wand?" He took it in his hands and grinned at the name. "That's Grandpa's name! This really is a wand that belonged to him! I remember it now. It was really special, so he kept it in this really pretty box."

"A box like this one?" Ludwig asked, pulling out the exact box in question.

"Yeah, just like that one! It has to be true what you said, then! There must be something called a _sogno._ If anyone would know enough about magic to have a wish-granting amulet, it would have to be my Grandpa Roma!"

"Then we ought to look for it."

"All right! Let's be friends!"

"Friends."

 _Brother, get ready to have some beer and notoriety. This guy's a bigger pawn than we thought._

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Hello, Syntax-N here! "Hetafata" is from** ** _hetare_** **and** ** _fata,_** **the Italian word for fairy.**


	4. The Discrepancy

"Would you mind if I played a song, Luddy?" Feliciano asked. The two of them were situated around a small campfire that Ludwig had built. The moon was rising, and the sky was changing rapidly from a multitude of colors to a tranquil blue. The evening star appeared not too long after the fire was crackling, signalling to Ludwig to put on his night cloak and remove his shirt and belt. The thick folds of fabric completely buried him as a human. It would keep the starlight off until he decided to reveal to Feliciano the terms of his curse. The fairy was still shaken when changelings were mentioned, and Ludwig was not entirely sure if Feliciano would trust him further if he allowed himself to become the dog-man in front of him.

" _Ja,"_ he said. "It would pass the time."

Feliciano's smile grew even wider. He took the lute and slung the strap so that it hung down in front of him. Ludwig watched as the fairy took a deep breath and began to sing while strumming. He quickly found that Feliciano's voice in song was much less irritable to listen to. The song was in the language of Allegria, so he could not understand its meaning. Even so, in some oddly comforting way, he knew the song was about the bliss of being wrapped in a blanket or curled up next to a fireplace with a book. With each new chord progression, Feliciano weaved a melody with his voice to complement the instrument's pleasant timbre. There was movement in the piece, and a sense of longing for a simpler way to spend the evening. Ludwig felt drawn into the music, the more the fairy sang. He could not help but feel emotions flowing straight from the heart: feelings of warmth, coziness and contentment. By the time Feliciano finished the song, Ludwig's eyelids were fluttering, and he felt as if he could let go of everything that had stressed him that day.

"Do you like it?" The question brought his consciousness out of the trance.

"It was very good," Ludwig yawned. "I enjoyed it greatly."

"Did you feel relaxed?" The fairy leaned closer to the fire and laced his hands together in anticipation for an answer.

"I did," Ludwig said after a bit. "You have an apt voice for singing."

" _Grazie._ It was a song for comfort. Singing and playing my lute is how I can do magic!"

"It was magical?"

" _Sì,_ I can play and sing songs that make different things happen. It makes me feel really good inside, and that's how I know it's fairy magic." Feliciano put a fist over his heart.

 _Like Gilbert and his flute,_ Ludwig thought.

"What other songs can you play?" Ludwig asked out of pure curiosity.

"I know so many, it would take a long time to count. I never went to a school and learned how most fairies use magic, so I just figured out little melodies over time that would change things around me. It's a special gift I was born with. I really like that comfort song. I can play songs for good rest, songs for a good time, songs to help water boil faster… I even know a song to keep changelings away, but I panicked earlier and couldn't remember how it goes. I don't know why they wouldn't like that song. It's the most beautiful song I know. Sometimes I hum it to myself to go to sleep at night."

"Why don't you play that song now? I'd like to hear it."

"Sure, why not? If that changeling's still around, I don't want him to think that I'm weak."

"You did run away from him earlier."

"Well, I never saw him in the first place, but he just sounded so scary! The entire tavern ran out into the street yelling about him!"

Ludwig recoiled at yet another bad connotation behind changelings. He wasn't fazed by it, but there was something truly odd about his loving brother's kind being portrayed in such a way. Then again, Gilbert was an older fairy who had the wisdom and composure to take care of himself. Ludwig had never met a young and ambitious changeling. The prospect of a power that enabled one to transform into another could have limitless possibilities. He could only suspect that Gilbert, in his experience as a sibling with responsibilities, had lost some of his wild touch.

Feliciano noticed Ludwig lost in thought and started strumming the requested song. It was intricate in nature and alternated between major and minor keys. Feliciano would play a slow, sad phrase in a minor key, and then pick it up and play quickly in the major to balance it out. Each part was equally lovely, but Ludwig was indifferent to this song. He liked the other one better. Unlike the comfort song, he could feel nothing magical stemming from this one. It was simply music. It was satisfying, but not extraordinary.

When the fairy had finished the second song, Ludwig began speaking in a very serious manner. "I wanted you to play that song for a reason, Feliciano. Its purpose is to keep changelings away, correct?"

"Yes," Feliciano said.

"You played it, and I am still here. I just wanted to prove to you further that I am not a changeling. I stayed during the whole song."

"I already trust you, Luddy. You don't have to prove anything. You showed me the wand, so I know you're the person I'm supposed to be talking to."

"Listen, Feliciano, and do not call me "Luddy," I—"

"I'm sorry. It's just that I find your name a bit hard to remember and pronounce correctly, and—"

"Quiet, Feliciano. I'm being serious. You know that I'm not a changeling now, so I want to show you something, and I want you to keep that in mind while you see it. If you want to travel with me to find this amulet, you must understand this."

"What?"

A few faint stars were twinkling above. Ludwig only saw them leering at him coldly. He looked at the fairy from under the folds of his hood. Feliciano's expression gave genuine confusion as to what Ludwig could possibly mean. Sighing, the human took off his hood and looked into the sky. His eyes met the lights fiercely, yet he knew his strength would never match that of stars following orders from a wizard.

Instantly, his body tingled and pressure of an extraordinary caliber built in his bones. Ludwig's muscles swelled. His skin grew painfully tight around them before stretching to contain the new mass. His cloak shrank around him until it was seemingly just the right size. A writhing itch spread as fur sprouted on his face, chest and back. It traveled down his arms to his fingernails, which were lengthening into claws. There was a shooting pain when Ludwig's tail grew into place as an extension of his spine. It too, sprouted fur until it was thick and fluffy.

The pressure grew in Ludwig's feet. His heels lifted off the ground and the bones stretched and changed shape to leave his ankles springy and agile. Sickening cracks and crunches emitted from the sudden alterations. At the last moment, he managed to kick his boots off before his feet swelled enough to be too big for them. His toes grew slightly longer, and claws grew out of the ends to dig into the cold earth.

Finally, there was a tugging sensation in his jaw. Ludwig faked a yawn to relieve some of the pain in his mouth. A great pressure built, and his nose and jaw pushed forward. His tongue grew flat in his mouth and he felt his teeth sharpen into canine fangs. One more uncomfortable stretch moved Ludwig's ears to the top of his head. The muscles comprising them were suddenly moveable, and he swiveled them to make sure they had transformed completely. All of the strain on his body now subsided, and Ludwig snuffled to catch his breath.

Feliciano was nowhere to be seen. The dog-man searched all around, but only saw his lute sitting where he had been. It was only the fairy's frightened rambling that led Ludwig to find him hovering about fifty feet in the air. His tannish-gold wings fluttered frantically in the moonlight.

"Come down! I'm not a changeling!"

"What _are_ you, then!?" The fairy questioned loudly.

"I'm cursed! In the starlight I become this! Now get down here! I'm not going to hurt you!"

Like lightning, the winged one shot down and threw himself on the ground with his hands over his head. His wings folded reflexively, and he muttered scared fragments about changelings and creatures of darkness hunting for him.

"Feliciano!" Ludwig barked, (quite literally,) "Get up! I'm not scary-looking!"

"D-doggie?" Feliciano whimpered. He popped his head up for a second and peered at the blue-eyed monster his friend had become.

"I'm a dog-man," Ludwig explained. "I'm not a wolf-man. I don't lose control of my mind and go about attacking people, though I _can_ get angry very easily. Do not cross me when I'm in this state."

Slowly but surely, the shaking fairy picked himself up and cautiously walked around the fire with his wings trembling. He reached out a hand and began to stroke Ludwig between the ears where he sat. A nervous smile grew on his face. "You're a cute doggie, aren't you? Yes, cute doggie. _Cucciolo carino."_ His attempts were blatantly to convince himself that the creature was harmless. To Ludwig, it was humiliating to be petted like the animal that he was. He allowed the fairy to continue only on the terms that antagonizing him could lead to the loss of his trust. The damned animalistic part of his transformed mind even enjoyed the soft touch of a hand rubbing against his fur.

"You can see now the reason why I didn't want to go into town in the evening," Ludwig said in an attempt to abate the awkward tension.

Feliciano jumped again in trepidation. He brought his hand away from Ludwig swiftly to avoid a paranoid sense of danger from the dog-man's maw. "I-I understand," he stammered. "I really wasn't expecting you to turn into a dog-man. I thought you were going to tell me you had a weird scar or something you didn't want to talk about if I ever saw it accidentally. I've never met anyone cursed like this before. N-now that I think about it, you really aren't that scary-looking. You're just super intimidating, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I think you're very cute as a doggie! Yeah, that's what I think."

"Feliciano, stop rambling. You can think of it as a 'weird scar' if you want to. It's something I live with, and I wanted to show it to you to get it out of the way before our quest gets too complicated. This does not in any way affect my desire to travel with you and help you find your inheritance. It only happens when I allow starlight to touch me. During the daytime, I'm perfectly human. "

"How did you get cursed?" Feliciano sat back down on the other side of the fire and gave a deeply concerned look. It was surprising for someone Ludwig had only met in the recent afternoon.

"I trespassed onto a reclusive wizard's land. He cursed me as punishment."

"Oh, that's terrible! How could anyone do something like that? All you did was trespass? I've trespassed onto other people's land before, and I've been yelled at, but never cursed! That's so crazy. I don't understand any of it."

"I don't understand it either, but that's what happened."

"Doesn't it hurt you? You looked like you were in so much pain."

 _"Ja,_ it's very painful, but I can deal with the transformation. It's the form itself I'm not fond of. I don't just look like a dog. I become one mentally, too. My very instincts can dictate my actions."

"I don't know any songs that can undo curses," Feliciano said sadly. "It's not a skill most fairies have. Winged fairies can't use dark magic at all, so undoing it would be impossible."

 _That's why I need this amulet,_ Ludwig thought to himself. _Its power can change anything, or so Gilbert says._ Ludwig lay down on his blanket and pulled his hood up over his ears. Wanting to change the subject, he brought up the objective of their quest. "Where do you think we will find the _sogno?"_

Feliciano lay on his stomach on a borrowed blanket. His wings folded up in relaxation. "Grandpa Roma made it like a riddle. He said that when I find his treasure, I'll be doing something I really love, and it's in a place that's very special to me."

"What do you love to do?"

"I love to paint, and that's why I like coming to Amotoile. I love singing and magic, and I learned those in Volkerburg. Oh, I really like pasta, but I can make that anywhere if I have the right ingredients. I guess Grandpa wanted to make it difficult for me. I love to do so many different things."

"Let's go into town in the morning. We can talk more then. I'm always tired after I transform," Ludwig said. He rolled over on his side and attempted to get comfortable. He was so close to the town. He'd found the one he'd been looking for without ever having been in the town, and yet his curse prevented him from being in it no matter whether he had found Feliciano or not. They would think he was a changeling using the form of a monster to scare them. They would be so far from the truth.

He heard rustling coming from the other side of the flickering, dying fire. Then Feliciano began to strum his lute again. He did not sing with it this time. He only played a nonchalant, downtempo piece that seemed to epitomize the world of the tranquil night. The melody reflected the stars, the chords carried the liveliness of the embers, and the resolutions of the minor key loneliness brought about a sense of peace with nature and the impending end of the summer moons. Ludwig felt a bit of magic in this one, and it was similar to the comfort song. This song was full of restfulness. In the strumming and plucking of strings, no matter how much the fairy was focusing on accuracy, the music was intrinsically laced with a pleasant, sylvan calm. The dog-man's breathing calmed, and the stillness and wonder of the forest lulled him to sleep.

* * *

In the morning, Feliciano was much closer to Ludwig than he remembered. He definitely recalled the fairy being on the other side of the fire pit. Ludwig had only awoken now because a delicate wing was brushing against his leg. He blinked in the sudden sunlight. Normally he would never sleep this late in the form of the dog-man. His instincts would always wake him up very early and tell him to scrounge around for food. He found now in the light of the sun that he'd slept through the second transformation. He didn't find it too farfetched. The reversion to human shape was always less painful.

Here the fairy lay right next to him with his back facing. His wings hung relaxed and downward to come into contact with Ludwig's sleeping area. If Ludwig were still the dog-man, such a violation of territory would be strictly unacceptable. He simply pushed the wings onto the blanket Feliciano was using and tried to sleep for another few minutes.

 _WAP. WAP._ The two longer wings flicked up and came into contact with his stomach. They were chilled by the night's air and made his bare skin crawl with the coldness. Ludwig wrapped his massive cloak around his middle and pushed them away again. Feliciano apparently felt this because he let out a whine of awakening and stretched his wings to their full height. Ludwig had to roll over to prevent them from slapping him in the face.

" _Buongiorno,_ Doggie," Feliciano mumbled. He clutched a corner of the blanket to his chest endearingly and let out a soft sigh with no intention of rising. His wings folded nicely back down to their resting place.

Ludwig, always one for efficiency, stood up and made sure the two of them had not been plundered during the night. He was relieved to find that all of his things were still in their place, and Feliciano's lute was hanging by its strap over a low-hanging branch. The remains of the fire smoldered in piles of smokey ash.

"Get up, Feliciano. Let's go into town and find some breakfast."

"No," the fairy whined. "Sleep is… _molto bene."_

"I do not speak Allegrian. Get up. Don't you want to find the amulet?"

"I don't have to get up right now. Can't a fellow relax and admire the morning sleep for a little while?"

"I am perfectly rested," Ludwig argued. "How did you get all the way over here, anyway?"

Feliciano sluggishly sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked at where his blankets now were and his countenance turned puzzled. "I don't know how I got over here."

"Are you a sleep-walker?"

"I don't think so. I must have just wanted to sleep on smoother ground during the night or something."

"Well, it doesn't matter now. You're already sitting up, so take your lute and direct us to the town."

The fairy flopped over again. "Why?" He yawned. "What if the changeling is still there?"

"You said the changeling was in the tavern, but you never were, so chances are the changeling never saw you. You can wear my night cloak to conceal your wings, so no one knows you're a fairy."

"People know me in Lafée."

"Yes, but the changeling won't if he's never seen you."

"I suppose you have a point. But, Doggie, I'm so _tired."_

"I'm not a dog-man anymore. The sun is up and I'm human. Don't call me that."

The fairy soon acquiesced and allowed Ludwig to pack up the blanket. He brushed his auburn hair with his fingers and repositioned the golden laurel hair clip. Even in the depths of sleep, the one rogue curl had never settled. Feliciano only ignored it and retrieved his lute from the tree.

Without the assistance of flight, the short trip into Lafée was still only about a mile's hike from their camp. It was refreshing to walk in the morning. The sun's heat had not yet graced the forest. Cold dew and mist still trickled over their shoes as they walked. Feliciano wore only sandals, so he occasionally lifted his wings and fluttered a few feet above the ground next to Ludwig to avoid getting his feet wet.

They passed by the clearing Ludwig had heard about. Its center was decorated with what looked to be a communal fire pit and a shed for storing wood. The grass was clipped and a path of colorful stones led to the pit. There was no sign of a fire in it recently. The ash was dead and cold.

When the town was in sight, Feliciano donned Ludwig's night cloak. It was many sizes too big and dragged on the ground behind, but it worked to cover up any bulges a normal cloak would have shown from his wings. A great deal of intrigue and commotion made itself apparent as they approached. In the town square, the looks of a forum were being held. At the center of it all was an attractive man called Sir Francis Bonnefoy, who was a knight of Amotoile. His blue cape swished behind him as he paced back and forth in front of the squabbling.

"Quiet! Quiet all of you!" Sir Francis shouted. He brushed a long strand of platinum hair out of indigo eyes and scowled at the restlessness of the townsfolk.

"I saw the changeling!" A man yelled.

"I saw him, too! He was definitely an old man with a mustache!"

"What are you talking about? _He_ was a _she,_ and she was so ugly I nearly soiled myself when I saw her!"

"You were drunk, Jean, and that was your wife!"

"Would you please all stop yelling?" Sir Francis pleaded with the crowd. "I can understand that there was a changeling, but with all of the noise, we can't work together to figure out what it looked like or where it went or came from. Now, I want to go down a line and hear all of the stories individually. If you saw the changeling, raise your hand."

To this, a great many hands rose into the air. Ludwig and Feliciano preferred to sit a little farther away to watch the action unfold.

"All right, then," Sir Francis continued. He pointed to the man who had mentioned a mustache. "What did you see? How did you know it was a changeling?"

"He transformed right in front of all of us! He was Louis, the bar keep's son, and all at once he was an old man with an unkempt mustache! His hair was silvery and his eyes were malicious and terrible to look at. He came right at me and I threw all my money at him, but he wouldn't leave me alone!"

"That's not what he looked like, Sir Francis!" Another man blurted. "He was Louis, and he changed into a young blond fellow right before my eyes. He just grew right into him, and his shirt ripped from his chest. Then he looked at all of us and said he was looking for someone, and if we didn't tell him where that person was, he would find the happiest one of us and use his form to kiss his wife!"

"Who was he looking for?" Francis asked.

"I don't remember," the man replied sadly.

"I remember him asking for a whole group of people, and he wasn't blond. He went _from_ a young blond man and changed into the bar keep. Then he stood on the table at the center of the room and got mud all over it. He never gave names, though. He just said there was a special group in Lafée and he had to find them, whatever the cost."

"That didn't happen, either!" A woman interrupted. "I tell you, Sir Francis, he was neither blond nor Louis, but a merchant who stumbled into the tavern and simply shouted to all of us that he was a changeling. The man must have been drunk. The people he was looking for were probably his friends still at the other tavern in town. I didn't see him turn into anyone."

"You weren't looking. Louis was acting strangely all night long, and he never said the things he normally said. It was only a matter of time before someone asked him if he was a changeling, and the fellow panicked and revealed himself in front of all of us. He was old and horribly homely. His mustache looked like it hadn't been groomed in weeks."

"The changeling was young, blond, and handsome. It was the hair on his head that wasn't groomed. He was clean-shaven."

"That's the way he looked _before_ his face mangled itself and he became the bar keep."

"That's enough," Sir Francis sighed. "So it seems you all saw the changeling in different forms. Do any of you recall seeing him in his true form? Changelings by themselves are like pale demons. The fairies of the Isle of Rain would be considered gods to them."

A low rumble of laughter roiled through the crowd at the mention of the Isle's fairies. No one recalled seeing any creature of the sort.

"Aside from what he looked like, what did you do when you learned he was among you?" Sir Francis stroked his stubble with his knuckles thoughtfully.

"We chased 'im out," the man with the mustache story said. "The others did, anyway. I was too frightened to move."

"I tried to push him off the table so he would stop getting mud from his boots on it, but he only leered at me and asked if I knew anything about the people he was looking for. I told him I didn't, and he laughed this horrible laugh and jumped off the table. That's when we chased him out. We made sure he was gone."

"Which direction did he go in?"

"He went on the path toward the other towns to the west," the woman said. "He left without protest, but that was only his drunkenness playing with his mind. He never said he was going to harm anyone."

"What about that line about kissing wives?"

"Oh, I'm sure it was _you_ who said that, Camille. You were the one who ordered the spirits from the Isle. Who knows what kind of potent shit the fairies put into that," the woman retorted.

"You were all drunk," Sir Francis remarked. "I don't know what happened last night, but you were all drunk. You were lucky I was on my way here. I'm not sure what to report, but I'll record it as a changeling sighting in eastern Amotoile and request a squadron of night guards. Has anyone checked to make sure Louis is okay?"

"We found Louis sleeping in his bed this morning. I rubbed a pair of scissors on his cheek, and he didn't scream. The changeling never harmed him."

"That is good," Sir Francis said. "There are always problems with babies being switched with changelings, but it is a habit of the older changelings to target young people. They think that being children will allow them to be coddled while they plot to steal money or marketable wealth. They can be greedy monsters, and most of them never learned of love or affection. I would recommend that you guard your town profusely over the next few nights, and protect all of your children. It may return, and you'll want to have more sober individuals to prevent another discrepancy in stories. I must leave you now. I myself am expecting a group that is meeting in town, though I can assure you, I am not a changeling. _Au revoir."_ The knight pulled out a pair of scissors from his own pocket and rubbed them against his cheek. He bowed his head and turned to return to an inn he'd been staying in within the town.

"It appears the changeling has left," Ludwig said.

"I hope he has," Feliciano replied.

"We don't have to worry. You have your song, and I have a pair of scissors. If we meet a changeling, we'll know what to do."


	5. Apprehension and Irritation

Everything, it seemed to Lord Arthur Kirkland, was intended to punish him.

Arthur had been arrested four times in his short life: once for larceny and possession of illegal equipment, twice for rowdiness at a pub, and the fourth time for recklessly practicing dark magic — a criminal offense on the Isle of Rain. This latest apprehension, however muted by its resolution and Arthur's corresponding sentence, seemed to be the catalyst for a large bout of gratuitous scrutiny from the Council of Fairies. Arthur's extensive library at Kirkland Manor had been picked through, and everything he owned that even suggested the use of dark magic had been confiscated from him. No amount of his dignified semblance could convince the Council to trust him as an independent magician. In fact, his status as a lord only fanned the flames. It was a week prior when the Council selected him for a mission in Amotoile, which he assumed was to simply be rid of him for a long while.

The morning after Ludwig and Feliciano had first met, Arthur was in a carriage rolling toward the town of Lafée in response to the silliest of letters the Council just had to believe was anything but hogwash. Of course they had picked him to be the Isle of Rain's representative in the stupidest endeavor he had ever heard of. He could only see it as a dirty game the Council played to see how many sentences could be piled onto his shoulders. No matter the rationale, they must have thought it was a perfect match: a mission they would gladly reserve for delinquents, and the dastardly dark magician Arthur.

The House of Kirkland was always known as one of the Isle of Rain's most popular families. Each of them was unusually talented in the magical arts, and more often than not, they were chivalrous and respectable at balls. Arthur was one of a handful of brothers who spent years of childhood in the manor, and the family's heir to the estate, in which he now lived alone. The Kirklands, behind their pretense, were terribly fascinated with squabbling and familial disarray. Arthur's status as heir combined with his history as a delinquent and drunkard could only exacerbate his brothers' frustrations toward him. It didn't help that he was one of the younger brothers. Upon departing, he overheard the others discussing plans for what to do with the manor while he was away. Their voices were nearly bursting with devious excitement.

"Why the long face, Artie?" His brother Allistor asked. The fiery-haired fairy sat opposite Arthur in the carriage. His voice startled the younger fairy, and he snapped his head up from his view of the countryside.

"You're in here with me. Couldn't you have just stayed back and ruined Kirkland Manor with the others? Gareth may be the best singer, but he sure as hell can't keep his voice down when he's talking about sleeping in my bed," Arthur scoffed.

Allistor smirked. "Someone had to come along and make sure you wouldn't try and escape. Then the Council would really be on your tail."

"Why would I be that stupid?"

"You've done a lot of reckless things, Artie. You've told us before that nothing is beyond you, and frankly, if I were in your situation, I'd be wanting to jump out of the carriage, too."

"Bollocks, Allistor, then I'd be stranded in Amotoile with pointed ears and no wings to match. My hair isn't long enough to cover them up. The humans would hear me speak and know I'm from the Isle. They'd be the bullies they always are. Either think I'm a changeling or just tease me for my nation. And when I returned to the Isle, the Council would be rid of me again. It's all because I did something I know _you've_ done just as much."

"You weren't arrested because you used dark magic, Arthur. You were arrested because you couldn't control what you'd created. You didn't hide it well enough. I, on the other hand, am furtive with my personal experiments, and I would never attempt to do something as ignorant and unnecessary as you did."

"I _was_ furtive."

"Why did you let the Council learn about it, then? I told you that kind of magic would only bring trouble, and you went and made a mess of playing with it anyway."

Arthur was about to argue, but upon a twinkling look of victory in Allistor's eye, he closed his mouth and folded his hands in his lap.

Arthur Kirkland was neither handsome nor homely. The prettiest part of him was his bewitching, emerald-green eyes, which were unfortunately overshadowed by the thick eyebrows his family was known for. He was not as tall as his pompous ego suggested, and his white-wine-colored hair was usually in careless disarray. Arthur's countenance was rarely marked by anything other than annoyance or pride. A genuine smile of contentment was something he used sparingly, and almost never when in the company of others.

Feeling irritated by Allistor, and no longer feeling in the mood to continue a conversation, Arthur returned his gaze to the window of the carriage. In his rational mind, he would rather let a changeling bash his body and steal his appearance than attempt to jump out. Still, there was a tiny, wild intrigue in the back of his mind. It was only a latch on the door, and the ditch beside the road would allow him to roll a little before getting up and running as fast as he could. The excitement of the escape would give him strength to run fast and far. He could snatch his capelet before he jumped and throw the hood up to conceal his ears. That would buttress a facade of humanity until he could get on a ferry back to the Isle. Perhaps he simply wouldn't go back to the Isle. Perhaps he would journey to Allegria or Volkerburg, or maybe he could find a ferry to take him across the sea.

The carriage jerked, and he was brought back to logic. Arthur internally slapped himself for thinking of such a notion. Even if he did escape and become a fugitive in Amotoile, he would not be able to remove the tight, anti-magic bracelet around his wrist without the key Allistor had. There was no reason for a human to wear such an ugly and uncomfortable thing, and the fashionable humans of Amotoile would begin to assume things much quicker. With it on, he couldn't even summon the power to hold them off, and he would be as useless as they were.

The window's view now showed smoke rising in the distance. Arthur felt chills from the closeness of the destination. His heart rushed, and he swallowed to wet his throat. He could not help but shiver and force his countenance to remain neutral to the situation. All at once, the latch on the door seemed less and less like an insurmountable challenge and more like a necessity. It wouldn't be that hard to conceal that he was a fairy. Perhaps he could say his pointed ears were the result of a curse and his bracelet was a family heirloom. Oh, but what about his accent? He had never practiced Amotoile's accent, and he was far from fluent in the language. He would have to speak in a whisper and blame that on the curse as well.

"Don't even think about it," Allistor said. Arthur jerked his hand back. He hadn't even noticed that he'd been reaching for the latch in his rapid reveries and spontaneous plans. His fingers were shaking. The silver bracelet was as cold and constricting as ever.

"Confound it all," Arthur said in a low voice bristling with frustration. "I'm Lord Kirkland _,_ and I'm being treated like a criminal. I was humiliated in front of the highest court of the Isle of Rain. I'm being _punished_ for my talent."

"You're not being punished. You're just getting what you deserve," Allistor said with a hint of humor.

"Coming from you, that only makes it worse, and how in the fairy queen's name do I deserve this?"

"You just do," Allistor said smugly. He crossed one leg over the other and straightened his back for emphasis of his own pride.

 _I certainly do not,_ Arthur thought to himself. The more blatantly angry he became, the more Allistor scrutinized him teasingly with his sparkling blue-green eyes. Arthur stared back dangerously. He felt the magic in his blood flare to life and made a flicking motion with his thumb and forefinger as if to fling Allistor out the window of the carriage. Instantly, the metal bracelet tightened around his wrist, squeezing the bones and sensitive skin until he swore in pain. He released the magic and the pressure ceased.

"Won't it be great when we get there and you can take that damn thing off?" Allistor asked.

"This damn, _inhumane_ thing? You bet every hair on your chin that when it's off of me, I'll throw you so hard against a tree that when you go to the pub, they'll think you're already drunk."

"At least I can grow respectable stubble. You just have those eyebrows, and they really do nothing for your face by themselves."

"Oh, so now I'm an _ugly_ criminal. I might as well be a changeling, then. It might even be fun. If I were a changeling, I'd bash you over the head with a tome and return to the Isle as you. I'd tell them poor Lord Kirkland perished on his mission. The Council would never have to be concerned about me again. They'd probably throw a revelry."

"You certainly are intrigued by dark magic."

"Oh, don't emphasize that fantasy."

"Do you like scissors or swords or nails, Artie?" Allistor cooed.

"You know I testified to the Council that I wasn't a changeling. You saw them press those things to my skin to see if it would burn, and it didn't."

"I really don't know, Artie, I might have to check again. Now that I think about it, the _real_ Lord Kirkland has thinner eyebrows than that, and his face is a little more, how should I say, _attractive."_

"You really do derive most of your excitement from poking fun of people's looks, don't you? You might as well jump out of the carriage and ask the humans for a little Isle whiskey while singing and tucking your hair behind your ears. See how they judge you for being ugly."

"Isn't that what you were just about to do?"

Arthur fumed. His nails dug into the fabric of his pants. "No, I was going to hide my ears with a hood and tell them that there's a lively, wingless fairy riding in a carriage who's asking for it."

"Well, then you'd be wrong. I'm not lively in the least when I'm sober. If you did manage to stir up a crowd without being roasted yourself, I'd kick all of their hind ends because I'm not wearing a magic suppressor. I'd tell them not to test the fair folk."

"I'd like to see you try taking down an army of teasing Amotoile humans with a magic suppressor on _both_ wrists."

Allistor lifted an eyebrow as if the challenge was pitiful. "That's an easy one, Artie, I'd do it with my voice. I'd spin a swear so potent, so pure and dirty, that every one of them would rip his shirt to make a flag of surrender. Then, of course, I'd tell them you're also a fairy, and you're the reason why I came to their country."

"So what? I'd tell them you're the one who put this on to nullify me," Arthur argued, pointing to the bracelet. "I'd say bringing me here was your idea. You're responsible for the idea to punish me by selecting me for this mission."

"You'd stoop so low as to play the victim card in front of a crowd of humans? That would certainly leave a scar on your dignity. I'd spread word around in the Isle's pubs like jam on a breakfast scone."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would, Artie, and I'd tell Gareth and Cearul to spread it around, too, and Peter—"

"You'd tell _Peter_ to do something like that? Peter is but a _child._ You'd tell him to go around and tell rumors that soil the name of his own... older brother?"

"Soiling the name of Arthur Kirkland is really our specialty, isn't it?" Allistor smirked.

Arthur bit his lip and stared back at the amused older fairy with searing, ireful gleam in his emerald eyes. He said softly and seriously, "I, _Lord_ Arthur Kirkland, will exalt my name ten thousand times more than you can soil it. I dared to use the most difficult and dangerous magic for my own personal gain, and I succeeded in using it."

"Until it—"

" _Quiet—"_

"Looks like we're here," Allistor interrupted. "Listen, Artie, I'd really like to hear all about your ninny excuses. Actually, I wouldn't, but either way, if you'd kindly get your things an' get out now, I can see there's a man waiting for you."

Arthur froze. He looked out the window to see a man garbed in expensive threads with his long platinum hair tied back in a ribbon. He clenched his right hand into a fist and shoved his wrist in front of Allistor. "Take it off," he said.

"Take what off?"

"The suppressor," he said through gritted teeth.

Allistor grinned deviously. "I'll take it off if you get out, first."

"And show the humans I'm thought to be a magical delinquent?"

Allistor pursed his lips in thought. "Yes," he replied.

"No."

"Get your things, Artie. It won't take magic to pick up a few bags."

"What did I ever do to you?" Arthur whined.

The other fairy said nothing. He reached for the latch and pulled it so the door swung open. The young footman ran around from his seat next to the coachman and assisted Allistor down before offering his hand to Arthur. The young lord, now red in the face with anger and embarrassment, took the possessions he'd kept in the carriage with him and stepped down to the street of Amotoile. However, deciding to do whatever it took to avoid further embarrassment in the street, he wrapped his capelet around him and threw up the hood.

"Here he is," Allistor was telling the man with the platinum hair. "From the Isle of Rain for the summons."

"Do you have the letter?" The man asked in a thick, Amotoile accent full of stressed vowels and hoarse Rs.

"I have it," Arthur said sheepishly. He reached into his pocket and produced a letter, the seal of which was imprinted with a swallow. He showed it to the man with the arm not wearing the bracelet. The man nodded and gestured for Arthur to enter the inn. When the man had already turned, Allistor took a tiny key from his vest pocket and unlocked the bracelet so it slipped off Arthur's wrist.

"Take care, Artie," Allistor wished happily.

"Take care, Arsehole."

Now being free of his bond, Arthur suddenly remembered a trick he'd been trying to learn back before he'd left for Amotoile. It was a simple spell, yet he'd never been able to master it when using it on himself. As he could see that his host was truly human, he decided to test it one more time.

"Where are we going?" he asked the platinum-haired man as he caught up.

"I have a special room reserved upstairs. It's rather small, but there are only four of us. The other two arrived late last night, and I arrived this morning. I hope you traveled well."

"My trip was lovely," Arthur lied.

The man stopped. "My dearest apologies. I never introduced myself to you. I am Sir Francis Bonnefoy I of Amotoile." He bowed and offered his hand.

Arthur saw just what he needed. "Lord Kirkland," he replied. He could see Francis hold back a snicker as he reached out to shake the human's hand instead of kissing it. He took it firmly in his own, and his arm felt warm as he called on his magic and weaved what he remembered of the spell. His green eyes met with indigo ones. _When you look at me, you will see a human,_ he chanted three times in his mind.

"Are you _just_ Lord Kirkland?" Francis asked, seemingly confused.

"You know what I did?" Arthur exclaimed.

" _Non,_ but should I?"

"No, no, it's not important."

"I simply wanted to know if you had a first name that I could call you by. Titles are splendid, but if we're going to work with each other, we should know each other better. However, you are always welcome to call me _Sir_ Francis."

"It's Arthur," he said brusquely. " _Lord_ Arthur Kirkland, and I'm from—"

"The Isle of Rain," Francis finished. Arthur could not help but notice the smallest corner of his mouth turn up in a smile at the name.

"Yes, but you see, I'm not of the majority of the Isle," Arthur said. He removed his hood and untied his capelet. When he looked up again, Francis was looking at him in a mixture of intrigue and awe.

"How so?" The human asked.

"Well, as you can see, I'm a human, like you. The Isle is mostly fairies." The words pounded at Arthur's pride. He tried to force himself not to be sick at their utterance.

Francis looked bewildered. "A human, but you have… pointed ears. They're so sharp and strange."

"Blast!" Arthur shouted. "It didn't work again. Perhaps it's because you already assumed I was a fairy, and so the illusion had no effect."

Francis laughed and pushed Arthur forward between the shoulder blades. "You can be proud that you're the only fairy who came. Amotoile's capital only received four letters saying people were coming for this summons," he said. "It's right upstairs, Arthur. Second door on the right. I will take the honor of getting the rest of your things."

"Thank you," Arthur said halfheartedly. He straightened his back and ascended the polished staircase.

The two others already in the room upstairs were vastly different from each other. Each of them sat at a square table in the center. A plush, purple rug was under it, and the sight of it made Arthur homesick. He had many soft rugs in the manor which he would have his servant sweep under in the afternoons. At least, until his servant no longer wanted anything to do with his chores.

The first of the two gathered was a human who couldn't have even matched Arthur's short stature. He was garbed in red and sipping tea boredly while the other man talked. He looked at Arthur with interest as he entered, and his brown ponytail slid off his shoulder to hang over his back.

The other man was something Arthur had never seen before. He was too large to be human or fair. His skin was a pale shade of blue, and his hair was as soft and white as freshly fallen snow. He had a long nose and ears reminiscent of a goat's. To complement them, two small black horns adorned his forehead. He smiled and his deep purple eyes glistened.

"Are you joining us?" The human asked in a choppy, tenor voice.

"Yes, if you'll have me," Arthur replied. He took a seat at a third side of the table, so one more was left for Francis.

"You are a fairy!" The goat-man exclaimed. His voice was light and creamy, and he rolled his Rs in a pleasant but forceful manner. "Where do you come from? Somewhere up north?"

"I'm from the Isle of Rain," Arthur said. "Where do you hail from?"

"I am a snow demon," he replied with a smile, "and I come from the frozen land of Seeniiseryi in the demon lands."

"I am from the Eastern Sea," the human said. "Luckily we didn't have to travel very far. Both of us were already in Amotoile, and we had to unwillingly volunteer for this stupid mission because we were so close to this town."

"I was just as unwilling," Arthur said, amazed that the others felt the way he did. "I am called Arthur. Lord Arthur of the House of Kirkland of the Isle of Rain."

"Too much of a mouthful," the human scoffed. "I am Yao. It is simple and easy to remember."

"My name is very long and complicated, so you can call me Ivan. It is what my sisters call me," the snow demon said. He pulled his knitted scarf down more and folded his huge clawed hands on the table. Arthur looked at the wood in wonder as its temperature dropped miraculously. "But if you have pointed ears, why do you not have any wings?"

"Fairies don't have wings on the Isle," Arthur replied briskly. He'd been expecting the question. "They would be impractical if we did have them. We spend most of our time indoors because of the weather."

Ivan stared innocently at Arthur's ears for a while before replying. "It is good that you do not have them, then."

Francis entered soon after bearing Arthur's other possessions and took the final place at the table. It was opposite Arthur, and the fairy scrutinized the human's features. He could see that the knight had retied the ribbon holding his shining hair back. There was a blatant sense of deep-rooted arrogance in Francis' countenance as he looked back at the fairy, and it radiated just as strongly as Arthur's. The Council of Fairies expected a lord of the fair folk to be the companion of a human knight, and one from the rival country of Amotoile.

The notion was laughable.

Francis produced his own letter with the swallow seal, and Yao and Ivan followed suit. A quick glance around the table proved that all four of them were identical, save for the scribbling in different places. The entirety of the summons was written with a sense that the writer was trying to be formal, but for some reason could never have the grace to write cleanly. It was full of odd places where the writing was blurred, or the letters were misshapen as if the writer's hand had cramped up. Arthur had looked it over immensely when he'd received it. He could never figure out why the Council would bother to send even a delinquent for something this ill-composed and pleading.

It read:

 _To whom it may concern,_

 _I write to you in a time of great distress. I have just received word that an enemy of mine, who shall remain nameless, has come to possess an item of great power known as a dream wand. The wand comes from the country of Allegria, and when in the presence of an amulet called a_ sogno, _it allows the user to grant wishes. It causes me great pain to know this. My enemy is a dark wizard. He has cursed countless families all across Volkerburg, mine included. I have suffered many times because of him. He does not give a reason for why he attacks me. He is very dangerous, which is why I write so earnestly._

 _Upon learning the nature of the wand, my enemy sent his brother, a human who is cursed to become a dog-man at night, to find the amulet, so he can use its power in whatever way he wants. My enemy wrote to the heir of the House of Roma in Allegria, a young Feliciano. The wand is from his family. Feliciano wrote back and agreed to meet in a town called Lafée on the edge of Amotoile where it borders with Volkerburg. I know Feliciano personally. He is of a medium height with auburn hair and golden wings. He wears a laurel branch clip in his hair as a symbol of his family. My enemy and his brother plan to use him to find the amulet and steal it from him._

 _I beg you to stop my enemy's brother and Feliciano from finding this amulet. If my enemy were to possess it, he could cause great suffering to anyone. He is powerful beyond belief. It is because of his malefic deeds that I cannot write his name without the bones of my hand cracking like porcelain. If I were to send my own men after my enemy or his brother, my enemy would only become interested in cursing me again. Send anyone you can to Lafée to meet in a week to a fortnight and intercept their meeting. Find these two and stop them. I promise a reward of whatever your country wishes. I promise that I can repay those involved for any difficulties they may encounter. My family is very wealthy, and we all agree that this dark force is not to even see that amulet._

The signature was smudged on all four copies of the letter.


	6. To Form an Opposition

"It seems that we are the chosen champions to take on this challenge," Francis said.

Arthur grimaced at the notion. He furrowed his brow and scrutinized the smudged ink at the bottom of the parchment. Yes, certainly a champion would want to do something like this. The problem was that Arthur was not a champion. He was a dignified nobleman framed as a delinquent, and he had been forced against his will to sit in this chair in this room in Amotoile.

"I have never thought of myself as a champion before. I was only called because I was in this country. I was helping my sisters to set up their new shop," Ivan said.

"Yes, and I was merely here trying to get well-deserved rest from the noise of my home, but something always has to happen," Yao sighed. "I feel more like I am a servant than a champion."

"So it's true. This person really sent letters to several _royal courts_ asking for help," Arthur said, amazed.

"It is true," Francis replied, "and since Amotoile is the place where the dark wizard's brother and Feliciano are supposed to meet, my royal court was roped into sending out letters asking who would come to answer the summons. The chaos of it all was exhausting. We received multiple letters back, but only three had definite answers with names. I volunteered for Amotoile."

"And how can you be so sure this is even a real _challenge_ to take on? You can't even read whom the letter is from. How do you know this 'enemy' poses any kind of threat?"

"Why else would someone send the fastest of messenger birds to deliver a written cry for help?"

"Sending them all around the world for one tiny problem in his neighborhood is a bit farfetched."

"And the people complied. Ivan, Yao and I were already in Amotoile. You just had to hop over the channel to get here," Francis explained. "Besides, a dark wizard cursing _anyone_ is a serious matter. It's not a tiny problem in any setting."

"Still," said Yao, "I wish I had been given an option to say no. I do not appreciate the convenience of the situation. I have nothing to defend myself against a dog-monster with. Arthur is right. This person should solve his problems by himself, if he has any at all."

"You want the writer to be tormented further by this wizard?" Francis scolded. "Do you have no compassion in your heart?"

"Compassion for a man who smudged his own name on all copies of the letter he wrote? Don't you think that's suspicious?" Arthur asked.

"It was probably to protect his identity if his enemy ever saw the letter."

"Why would he even attempt to write his name at all, then?"

"Maybe he wanted to write his name but ended up smudging it later just for a safety precaution. Now that we've met, we're the only ones who know all of the signatures are smudged, so the people who received them probably thought it was a single mistake instead of being on purpose. The court of Amotoile certainly thought that," Francis said.

" _Brilliant,"_ Arthur muttered under his breath. "Are you aware of any families that use a swallow as a House symbol?"

"Unfortunately, no. Volkerburg families are known for using variants of eagles for their House symbols. The swallow stamp is probably another mark to be misleading if the enemy found it."

"A fake symbol and a smudged name. There is absolutely no way to validate that this is a real summons from anyone of high status," Arthur complained.

"Exactly," Yao agreed. "Anyone could say his family is wealthy."

"And the handwriting is atrocious. If someone told me a child composed this, I would agree without question," Arthur added.

"But, if this _is_ from a wealthy family, would you not want the reward?" Ivan asked. All three snapped to look at the snow demon. His eyes brightened, and an inexplicable shiver ran its way down each man's spine.

"Reward for the countries involved, not a reward for the individuals who participated. It would go straight to the royal courts. And the letter only promises that the writer will pay for difficulties encountered, like if one of us gets injured. Fancy that, it's bloody _implied_ we'll get injured!" Arthur exclaimed. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. _Just more money for the Council to punish me with because I'm oh so reckless and dangerous,_ he internally grumbled.

"If we stop them from getting the amulet, we could ask for a reward for ourselves," Ivan explained.

"Then I would ask for a reward of peace and quiet while I'm on vacation. And if he is desperate, he will not only make that happen, but pay me whatever I want after this is over," Yao spat. "If this writer is sincere and will really do anything, I will go along with whatever this crazy thing is. I just do not like that we can't tell who wrote it and if it is sincere at all."

"There is only one way to find out if it is truly sincere, and that would be to wait until these two mentioned find their way into this town," Francis said. He stroked his stubble thoughtfully and eyed his letter again. "The letter says to meet between a week and a fortnight, but that's only an estimate of when he thinks they will get here. It may be longer."

"Or they may have already been here and left," Arthur scoffed.

"You believe that the letter is sincere, now?" Francis smiled. He eyed Arthur in a way that made him cringe and squirm in his chair, no doubt a strong attempt to break through the walls of his pride and adamance.

"I'm merely trying to further the conversation," Arthur shot back.

"Then let the conversation continue. Like I was saying, it's been about a week since Amotoile received its letter. I may have to stay in this town for a few more days anyway. Last night a changeling was seen in Lafée, but everyone was so drunk, no one could remember what it looked like and agree with anyone else."

"A changeling?" Arthur said, eyes wide.

"Some said it was a changeling, and some said it was a drunkard," Francis sighed. He tensed and cocked an eyebrow at Arthur. "You are not him, are you?"

"Me!?" Arthur exclaimed. "I just arrived. How could I have been in the town last night?"

"Some reports said the changeling took the shape of a young, blond man. Others said he was looking for a group meeting in town. You match both descriptions, and you happen to be a fairy. I was just wondering if you had anything to do with it." Francis slowly slipped a pair of scissors out of a pouch on his waist.

"Give me those," Arthur said. He walked around the table and snatched them right out of the human's hand. He gripped them tightly in both hands to let the blunt metal squish between folds of skin. Then he rubbed the closed blades on each cheek and gave the scissors back to Francis with a scowl. "I certainly wasn't willing to find you," he murmured as he took his seat again.

So now he was not only in Amotoile in the presence of a human who insisted Arthur call him _Sir_ Francis, but he was also possibly in the vicinity of changelings. Amotoile had had its fair share of infestations in the past. Numerous children were replaced in the same night and area. Every so often, an adult would be targeted because of prestige or a happy family life. If a changeling were to find out about Arthur's wealth, status and infamy in the royal court, then a changeling very well might consider stealing his form and his life. Either the changeling could become Arthur, or it could bash him over the head and become one of his brothers to tell the Council about his inevitable death — the death the letter implied. If the latter, the Council would probably throw a revelry for the ages.

Arthur laughed internally at the thought. He never had to worry about any dark fairy getting that far. He was far too clever to ever let anyone fool him or steal his shape. Arthur had studied the wiles of changelings when he had been practicing his dark magic. They were said to be incredibly sharp of mind and attentive to detail to make up for their appalling appearance. Arthur was sharper. No creature in the world could be as sensible as the fair folk of the Isle, so he told himself.

"Say it is a sincere letter," Yao said to get back on topic. "What will happen if we prevent the enemy from getting the amulet? We can't send a letter back asking for the reward if the writer is using a fake alias."

"Volkerburg could issue a proclamation," Francis suggested. "It could declare to all of its citizens that the threat has been abated."

"That would only inflame the threat," Arthur said, "If all of Volkerburg's citizens heard the proclamation, the wizard would hear about it and become angry."

"He wouldn't know who wrote the initial letter, though. The writer said he's cursed several families all over Volkerburg."

Arthur furrowed his brow in thought. "It's still too risky. Even if letters were sent out individually explaining what had happened, the wizard could hear about it at any time. If he doesn't know who wrote the letter, he may decide to curse everyone whom he deems suspicious. The writer even calls the wizard his enemy. They must be close. What we need…"

"What?" Yao and Francis asked together.

Arthur flattened his letter on the table, and the other three leaned in closer. Arthur scrutinized every word. He traced the lines with his finger. Then, in the middle of the second paragraph, he stopped and pressed the tip of his finger to the ink. " _I know Feliciano personally,"_ he read aloud. "The Allegrian could be the key. The dark wizard and his brother want to use him to find the amulet, but he could also be beneficial to us if we want that reward. We need to ask him who wrote this letter. Then we can really know if it's sincere."

"Wouldn't writing a letter to him just warn the wizard's brother of our presence if it is sincere?" Yao asked.

Arthur's face fell, and he sighed sullenly. "I suppose you're right. We would need to get close to him. It's dirty work."

"It is a _challenge,"_ Francis reaffirmed. "We must seek out the wizard's brother and Feliciano and convince Feliciano not to deal with the dog-man. Then we ask him who wrote the letter, write a letter to the writer saying the issue has been resolved, and if _you_ would like to, ask for a personal reward."

"And not let anyone know who we are if we don't want to end up cursed," Arthur said, "not even the dog-man. It's puzzling, to say the least."

"I think you want to go on this mission, Arthur," Francis said temptingly.

"I don't in the slightest."

"Yes, you do."

"Have it your way," Arthur replied. He was about to make some cheeky remark about how the mission only needed him to raise the group's overall sense, but for the sake of civility, Yao spoke again.

"How do we know if they were here or are coming here?"

"It's as simple as asking the locals," Francis said. "Our two aren't the common folk. They're a winged fairy and a man from Volkerburg who is cursed."

"The people around here can't get a story straight about a changeling," Yao said.

"I already said that was because they were drunk. The fairy and man won't be expecting us, so they probably will come during the day when the townsfolk are sober."

"And if they already came?" Arthur said.

"Then the townsfolk would know."

"What if they disguise themselves anyway? What if the fairy hides his wings?"

"Allegrians have large wings. They'd be difficult to hide, and if he did hide them, we'd know he's Allegrian by his accent. We'd know he's Feliciano by the description in the letter."

"The letter never specified whether or not the dark wizard's brother is also a magician. He could work an illusion over Feliciano and make him appear human."

Francis smirked. "Given that _you,_ an intrinsically magical being, could not work a spell to hide your ears, I'd say a human magician would not be able to hide another man's ears and a full set of wings."

Arthur tensed, and his hands clenched under the table. "I suppose… you're right," he said, flustered. "If he was a master illusionist, the letter would have probably stated as such. And knowing a bit about it myself, I can say it's a pain to maintain any sort of illusion without constant focus. It demands even more focus if someone is convinced you're the thing you're trying not to look like."

"And all of us know we're looking for a fairy," Yao said.

"And when nightfall comes, a dog-man," Francis added.

"And then we will crush them," Ivan chimed in.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Arthur said. "We wouldn't want to anger the wizard by killing his brother and an innocent fairy."

"A fairy who is a nobleman," Francis said.

"And I did not go on vacation to get blood on my hands," Yao said.

"Neither did I," said Arthur. _I've got enough legal trouble as it is._

"Please do not get freaked out. I only meant it metaphorically." Ivan smiled eerily, as if to say that he was secretly serious.

"We really aren't trying to crush anyone. We can't let the dark wizard know there's an opposition to his cause," Arthur said. "And before you say it, _no,_ I'm not going to weave an illusion over all of us."

"You wouldn't have the skill, anyway," Francis muttered just loud enough for Arthur to hear.

"Precisely. Wait, _no._ It's not because I don't have the skill! It's just that I would have to focus for four individuals at once, and one of you is drastically unique in appearance."

"Could you work an illusion for just me?" Ivan asked innocently.

Arthur ignored the notion. According to the smug look on Francis' face, the answer was obvious."Let's just try to be inconspicuous. That's all I meant. We need to find these two and act as if we have nothing to do with them. We're like a traveling band of musicians or entertainers or something."

"Like a fellowship," Yao said.

"Yes, something like that," Arthur replied. "Perhaps we don't even have a specified trade."

"The Fellowship," Ivan said. "That is what we call ourselves."

"'The Fellowship' seems a bit vague and uncreative," Francis said.

"What would you like to call us, Francis? The Four Friends? The Motley Crew?" Arthur teased.

"How about the Mercenaries of the Messy Handwriting?" Yao said.

"That's brilliant, Yao," Arthur laughed. His green eyes glittered. And there, he produced the first genuine smile he had been able to muster all day.

"It suggests that we are being paid," Yao replied with a grin.

"Mercs of the Messy Hand. There, it's got a better ring to it," Arthur smirked. "Because the only way to make us do this ridiculous task is to pay us lavishly. And that is something the writer with the messy hand will have to do, whether he is sincere or not."

"I can't believe you will still only do this for the reward," Francis scoffed. "You take no honor in it. You do not care about the fact that the writer of the letter has been cursed before and could be cursed again. You see this as a joke."

"That's just what a mercenary is, Francis: someone who works for a reward and doesn't care about the cause. I see it as something I didn't sign up for," Arthur said. "Seeing it as a joke is the only way to make up for how bothered I am that I was forced to come here."

"And if you see it as a joke, and the reward promised in the letter is a good incentive, will you give it your full effort?" Francis asked with his own hands drawing into fists. "The reason the writer asked for a representative from the Isle of Rain is because he probably _knows_ you're a magician who can give the team information about the enemy's weaknesses."

The smug look erased itself from Arthur's face immediately after that remark. His smile dropped, his eyes went blank, and he almost shuddered. _I am a good magician,_ he thought. _And I'm not just good_ , _I'm brilliant_. With this new notion, it seemed as though his raging blame on the council dimmed slightly. They had selected a delinquent to answer the call, but they had also picked a man who could work two sides of the magical coin, (or at least could _know_ _of_ the other side, as working it would go against the terms of his sentence.) Arthur was dastardly _and_ intelligent. His reputation was sunken, but his talent still soared.

He wasn't entirely sure if he believed it, but not wanting to appear defeated by the stab of Francis' logic, Arthur perfected his posture and pointed his gaze directly into Francis' mundane, indigo eyes. "I would," he said. "In fact, I devote myself."

The rest of the meeting was as lacking in substance as Yao's hot water without any tea. Arthur and Francis, though each not noticing at first, waged a little war of pride with one giving a remark and the other reacting. Little oppositions and doubts to the cause were made on all fronts, even by Francis at one point, who stated that if they were to pursue the dog-man and fairy into Volkerburg, he would first need to travel home and bring extra supplies for self-care. Arthur called him a fool for not considering the other mercenaries had no resources of the sort. Francis then softly reprimanded Arthur for calling the group a band of mercenaries, and Arthur once again said he devoted himself.

And every time a little quarrel burgeoned among the gathered, Arthur, Francis and Yao found themselves just a little more uncomfortable with the room's temperature. The table almost frosted over when Ivan shifted his hands on the wood one time, and his light voice brought redness to the tips of Arthur's ears when the demon spoke. All could only wonder if Ivan knew he was causing such a chill throughout the room and his companions. By the time Francis allowed the others to disperse, the distress of the chill was so great that he and Yao were sniffling, and Arthur shivered uncontrollably, still with a dauntless expression. The knight noticed frost and tiny icicles forming on the ceiling. The pot containing Yao's hot water steamed on the outside.

Sir Francis informed Arthur that he had a room reserved for him too, and offered to pay for a meal downstairs while he scouted the town for the two in question. Upon the knight's turning of the icy door handle and the swinging of the door, a rush of warmth spread over the room's inhabitants. Arthur was the first to leave. He took his belongings and gave Francis a sharp look in his shivering. Yao followed suit to go to his room, which he had settled into the night before.

As Ivan stood up to his full height of eight feet, Francis' heart rushed a bit, and he worked up the urge to speak for a concern. "Ivan, are you all right?"

"Why would I not be?" the demon answered. He stooped down a foot so his goat-like nose was just above the human's head. Francis shivered even more, though he tried to hide it.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but the room got unreasonably colder during the meeting. I was just wondering if you were under any stress. Was the room too warm for you?" The knight inched backward as if the demon had an aura of frigid air surrounding him.

"It is a lot warmer than what I am used to, yes. Seeniiseryi is cold all the time. I find this thing called summer very interesting."

"S-so it was your demonic magic making the room colder?"

Ivan turned to look at the half-frozen icebox the room had become. He smiled from ear to ear. "Ah, yes, that must have been me. My mistake. I liked watching the little people argue with each other." The snow demon then left the room without allowing for any further questions.

Francis sighed in relief. He furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his platinum hair as an exasperated expression took hold of his face. "'Mercs of the Messy Hand,'" he scoffed to himself. "At least calling ourselves 'The Fellowship' would be somewhat sophisticated."


	7. The Nature of Feliciano

Feliciano was distracted. His chin sat in the palm of his hand, his eyes were half-lidded in a dreamy sense of wonder, and his lips were moving at an unbelievable speed. The young woman of his attraction could only look bewildered down at him. Her countenance continuously shifted between flattered and confused as to what the Allegrian could be trying to imply with quick-witted euphemisms and blatant remarks of infatuation. Across from the fairy sat Ludwig, who looked as bewildered as she did. His eyes darted from fairy to woman to the state of the sun outside.

"Feliciano," Ludwig started.

"And do you know what else there is to do in Allegria? You can sit on the beach and take in the scent of sea salt as little waves wash over your feet, and then you can go and have pizza with fresh tomatoes, (I know where you can get some _really_ fresh tomatoes,) and if you're not tired yet, you can go and listen to music and dance all night long. And the music is so beautiful. People say that you have to be careful because it can enchant you, but I don't think that's true because I'm the only music enchanter I know. If you want, I could show you the things I can play. I'm a good musician — not the best in the world — but I can play lots of songs for you! I can do a lot more for you if you want, too. All you have to do is say the word."

"Feliciano, please," Ludwig said, "let her speak for herself."

Still, the fairy refused to hear his companion's suggestion, and it took the brisk grabbing of Feliciano's free and gesturing wrist to finally silence him. He squeaked in surprise and bit his lip. Two massive bumps rose from the back of his oversized cloak. He then realized his reflex and put them down again.

"I'll be back shortly," the young waitress said, and she dashed off.

"Is that really how you speak with every woman you see?" Ludwig said, a little harshly.

The fairy flashed a playful half-smile back. "You've got to treat the ladies with respect, eh?"

"Yes, but you talked so much she didn't get any time to reply. That was not very respectful of you."

Feliciano's face fell into a frown, and he let out a long sigh. He swung his feet under the table. Ludwig moved his legs back to avoid being kicked in the shins.

"Tell me more about your grandfather," the human said, a little exasperated.

"He was very kind and super talented with magic," Feliciano replied. "I don't remember if it was real or a dream, but one time, I saw him darken the sky and bring rain so all the grapevines and olive trees would grow. Oh yeah, and the tomatoes. My brother always liked those the best."

"Brother?"

"Oh, I guess I didn't tell you about him yet!"

 _What_ haven't _you told me about?_ Ludwig thought. It was later in the afternoon now, and the fairy had been dragging him through Lafée throughout the day to show him his favorite places in town. Then there was the matter of retrieving the fairy's belongings from his inn and bringing them back to the camp. The wooden box was a good hiding place for their things until they returned.

Luckily, he'd packed lightly. His lute seemed to be his most important possession. Out of the hours they'd spent in town together, Feliciano had never stopped talking. Either he was excitedly pointing out a pigeon on the road, or chatting up a young damsel, or urging his companion to follow him to the top floor of a scenic villa. Ludwig was sure that when he went to bed as the dog-man that night, the world would sound eerily quiet without the buzzing countertenor of the fairy's voice ringing in his ears.

"My big brother, Lovino Vargas Roma," Feliciano continued. "He's mostly a nice guy, but sometimes he just gets really mean and scary. If you're not someone he likes, he won't say anything nice to you."

"Do you think he would know where the amulet is?"

"I don't know. I'd have to ask him. I'm not really sure if Grandpa told him about the special treasure. He said it was a secret that I was supposed to keep."

"It would be worth a try if you sent a letter to him. Does he live in Allegria?"

"For the most part, yes. In the summers he goes to work with Antonio over in the land of Piamenta. Oh no, I just realized I never told him I was leaving!" Frantically, Feliciano shifted through the contents of his purse and pulled out a tattered piece of parchment. He then realized that he didn't have any ink and fidgeted in his seat. The back of the chair was solid and didn't allow his wings much room, so he was forced to push them to the sides under his cloak.

"When I was little, and Grandpa passed away, my brother and I inherited all of his belongings. I got to have the estate, but I was too young to own so much land and property. I was barely even school-age. Well, soon I was, and our caretakers told Lovi and I to pick what we wanted to do until we were a little older and could handle our inheritance.

"Lovi said he wanted to work, so a fairy named Antonio took him to Piamenta and made him his apprentice in growing tomatoes and other good things. I said I wanted to study music. There were a lot of tutors in Allegria, but my caretakers decided the best tutor was a scary man called Herr Edelstein. He taught me music, but I also had to clean his house and work in his garden."

"Did you ever get paid for it?"

"Sometimes. I would use the money to sneak out of the house and get treats at the local taverns around where I lived. Usually they wouldn't let me have anything to drink because I was young, so I played my lute for them. That always worked."

"Enchantments!" Ludwig's eyes grew wide. Perhaps the fairy was not as innocent as he looked.

Feliciano put his hands up defensively. "I didn't enchant them! I just offered to pay for some wine with a song or two. Although, maybe I didn't really know what I was doing at the time. Herr Edelstein didn't know anything about magic, and at that point, I didn't either. The wine just made me think of home. It didn't taste very good back then, but it smelled like home."

Ludwig gave a hint of laughter. " _Ja,_ I guess Gilbert would let me have some beer when I was a little one, too. I had to be introduced to it sometime. Gilbert's a world-class beer taster. He can find the best even if it's miles away."

"I bet you knew more about magic as a little one than I did. You lived with a magic collector. If we'd known each other, I bet Gilbert could've taught me a thing or two."

"Maybe," Ludwig said. "Well, Gilbert's not really a _wizard._ He collects magical artifacts, but that's really all. He usually sends letters out to the more magically-inclined to know about what he's got in his possession."

"I thought it was so nice of him to write to me when he found Grandpa's wand," the fairy smiled. "The funny thing is, I didn't go to magic school."

"I never went to school either," Ludwig said. "Gilbert tutored me and taught me to read." _Then he taught me how to run errands for him._

"I really would have waited if Gilbert wanted to come after he was sick. You could have both come and helped me. It would have been fun."

The human tensed. "Perhaps, but Gilbert is much too sick to be out."

Pizza of any sort was not something Ludwig was accustomed to, so he was cautious when selecting a slice out of the Allegrian-style delicacy the fairy had impulsively ordered to share. The waitress, when she returned, just barely escaped Feliciano when he impulsively got up out of his chair and attempted to peck her on the cheek.

"Please stop," she begged. "I'm married."

This seemed like enough to discourage Feliciano. He sat down again distraught, but not crushed. At least a comfort food had just been placed in front of him. Ludwig noticed, though Feliciano hadn't, that the woman had no ring on either hand. Soon enough, half of the comfort food had been eaten, and the other half was slowly and strategically being cut up into smaller slices.

Ludwig's cutting and Feliciano's curious scrutiny of the act was abruptly interrupted by Sir Francis standing in the doorway. He wore only a maroon vest over a white silk shirt and tailored pants. In his right hand, he held a pair of scissors to prove he was not a changeling. His platinum hair was slipping out of the loose ribbon. The knight scanned the room before settling his eyes on the man and fairy. Ludwig averted his gaze, and Francis continued looking on. Ludwig was a new man in town, and blond just like the changeling had been accused of being. He could always take Francis' scissors to prove himself innocent, but something made him uneasy about the way Sir Francis had peered at him.

"I want some wine," Feliciano said. "If I remember correctly, this place has Allegrian wine. Some say it's even healthy to have a little every day. Of course, where I come from, people tend to drink more than a little, but they're always really fun to be around when they've had a lot. The music gets even wilder."

"As long as you pay for it with money and not magic," Ludwig replied sternly.

"I have money. I always bring a little extra for special occasions," the fairy smiled. He had just gotten up for the umpteenth time when he stood face to face with Sir Francis.

" _Excusez-moi,_ but you are Allegrian, are you not?" The knight asked the young fairy. He appeared to be staring at a place above Feliciano's eyeline. The golden laurel clip adorned his head just to the left of his part.

" _Sì!_ I am Allegrian! How did you guess? Was it my accent? I suppose that's obvious if I'm in a place like Amotoile."

"No, it was your cute little Allegrian face," Francis replied with a smile. He put his hand on Feliciano's shoulder. "Could I ask you what your name is, fair Allegrian?" His voice was saccharine and he flipped a shining strand of hair out of his right eye. "It's urgent," he continued. "I am Sir Francis Bonnefoy, and I am a knight of Amotoile investigating the changeling sighting reported. I heard that an Allegrian was staying in the town, so I wanted to get some input. You know about magic, don't you? And I must have your name so I can name you as a witness."

"I'm Feliciano," the fairy said warmly.

Francis took this in. Then his indigo eyes darkened, and he almost forcefully took the fairy by the hand. "Could I get some more information about what you saw, Feliciano? How about we talk outside? It's a nice day today. They say that fresh air can be good for the mind and mood."

"I can tell you all I can once Doggie and I are done."

"Doggie?"

"Did I say Doggie? Oh, um, I meant—"

"Ludwig," the man said.

"Yes, Ludwig, that's what I meant," Feliciano stuttered.

"Surely your meeting must be very important, but Amotoile's court needs information from as many witnesses as possible. I am the only knight in town, so it's crucial that I talk to you when your memories are still fresh. Please come with me outside."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you what I know, but I don't know much," the fairy said. He followed the knight out of the quaint restaurant. Once they were out of earshot of anyone in the establishment, Francis' countenance shifted into one of relief and excitement.

"Feliciano, you don't know how much of a relief to some this is that I was able to find you at this time."

"I really can't tell you anything about the changeling. I never saw him. I was in a different part of town when the people started yelling yesterday. I ran right out of town when the sighting happened."

"That's not what I meant. Feliciano, it's not—"

"They were yelling these horrible things about burning the changeling and chasing him away. I heard those things and got really scared. I come from a powerful family. My villa has guards who are trained to watch for suspicious people, so I don't get swapped."

"Who is that man you were sitting with?"

"Who, Doggie?"

"Doggie, Ludwig, whatever you call him. Who is he?"

"He's not a changeling, if that's what you think. He may look like he's constantly scrutinizing everyone to see if he has good fortune, but he's not a changeling and he proved it to me."

"It is good that he is not a changeling, but that's not really what I'm aiming for. Where is he from? Why are you with him?"

"He's from Volkerburg, and he's helping me to find my inheritance. His brother was going to come, but he's really sick, and Doggie came instead."

"He has a brother, does he?"

"Yes, his brother is… hm, a collector and historian of magical artifacts. Yeah, that's what I think the letter said. It's a long story why we're traveling."

"I think I have all the information I need," Francis smiled. He began fiddling in his pocket and pulled out a scrap of parchment stamped with a swallow. "Feliciano, could you tell me something?"

"What would you like to know? Do you want to ask Doggie what he knows about changelings?"

Francis unrolled the letter and had just begun to speak when an anguished cry rang out from a few streets down. "Changeling!" It sang. "Fair-haired and pointy-eared!" The street near the cry erupted with people, and the area around the restaurant dotted itself with nervous heads. Francis whipped around and tried to make out any other words coming from the center of the chaos. More had begun to shout similar things about the changeling returning. People on the closest street beckoned to stragglers and children to come inside before locking doors.

A woman covered in cold sweat dashed to the knight from the origin and grabbed him by the shoulders. Her face was red from sprinting. "They cornered him. He has to be the one whom people spoke of last night and this morning. Blond hair, glinting eyes, and his ears are pointed like he forgot to disguise them."

"Where is he? Did he threaten you?" Francis asked.

"He swore up a storm, but we managed to hold him. He has some accomplices, too. They're probably also changelings, or that group he was asking people about. He's at the inn over there."

"Inn over there?" Francis said. "And he has accomplices?" He stood in shock for a few seconds before realizing a grave possibility. "Let me see this changeling. He may not be what you think." The knight then turned to address the fairy, but he had already left. The discarded cloak lay draped on the road where Feliciano had tossed it. Wings whizzing, the Allegrian shot back toward the forest to take cover.

Ludwig, upon hearing that a changeling was reportedly sighted once again, immediately took Feliciano's purse and lute from his seat and abandoned the table. The owner of the restaurant was anxiously shifting through keys to find the one that locked the establishment. Ludwig pushed past him and exited the building.

Sir Francis was running toward the growing horde at the center of town. Where he had stood was the night cloak. Ludwig grabbed this too and scanned the sky. Ludwig only caught a glimmer of gold before the fairy had submerged into the greenery. Frustrated, he scowled and slung the night cloak over his shoulder. He could only assume the fairy was trying to find the camp, so he dashed through the tense, abandoned streets toward the forest. The shrieks echoed behind him. "Fair-haired and pointy-eared!"

Ludwig had witnessed Gilbert's raids in Volkerburg when he was younger, though these had been the playful type with no magical malice intended. The people of the cities and villages didn't know that. Gilbert would lovingly smirk at his younger brother, pull his hood up to look ominous, and slowly walk through town. The streets would go quiet wherever he trod, and if he stared at someone, that person would make dead-serious eye contact until he looked away. Gilbert had a silent power over the people. No one ever saw his face, his presence was terrifying.

When the dark wizard Gilbert walked through town, no one shouted about changelings or talked of burning or chasing people. They only whispered harshly of how Gilbert cursed their cousins to sprout feathers because he was not pleased. They urged each other to present him with whatever he wanted, and they dared not oppose him or his familiar, lest he become angry and curse the entire town.

There was a stinging notion that the changeling in the center of town could have been Gilbert, and he was only trying to spy on Ludwig and Feliciano. After all, the changeling had asked if a group was meeting in town. Ludwig had once seen Gilbert assume the form of a human who was not unlike his true form, though pale-blond and gray-blue eyed. It was the form Ludwig always insisted Gilbert use when he was out drinking. On some occasions, Gilbert would come home late with his ears sharp and his eyes melting between blue and red as if he had lost a grip on either form. Those were the nights when his drunkenness made him stupid enough to reveal himself for what he truly was. If Ludwig did not superfluously remind Gilbert not to indulge himself too much, the number of occurrences would only increase. Still, that kind of mess-up was rare. Gilbert had the greatest tolerance of anyone when he made himself human.

Ludwig scratched his wrist on a thorny plant and gritted his teeth. It was his fourth time walking on the makeshift path that day, yet the ground was still not completely flat. The night cloak caught on low tree branches and picked up faded grass and splinters in its folds. Its black mass took in the heat of the sun until his back was roasting. Sweat pooled on his forehead.

When he reached the camp, the first place he checked for the fairy was the box. Feliciano was not hiding in there. It only contained the things they had stored earlier.

" _Scheiße,"_ he swore aloud. "Why does he have to be so cowardly? That changeling was in the center of town. I can't afford to lose him if he can't stand up for himself."

"Hey, Doggie, you found me!"

Ludwig looked up to see the fairy sitting on a high tree branch with his glittery wings twitching. His face remained stoic at the discovery. "I brought your lute and purse," he said.

" _Grazie!"_ Feliciano replied. For some reason, his mood had again shifted dramatically, and he could only bear a smile at the sight of his companion. He dropped from the branch in one smooth motion and fluttered his wings to land on the ground safely. "It's a shame we couldn't finish that pizza. It doesn't really matter now. It wasn't as good as my big brother makes, and I haven't shared my pasta with you yet. Maybe if we have some water, I can boil it and make you some."

Ludwig gave the fairy a stern look. "You mustn't run away like that. You could have been anywhere."

"Well, the camp's where all our stuff is, and—"

"It doesn't matter, Feliciano. When I found you yesterday, you were in hysterics. You could have flown anywhere and gotten lost, or gotten your wing stuck somewhere else with no one to get it out. From now on, you must know how to defend yourself. You cannot be cowardly in the face of danger. You must learn to stand your ground. I can train you so you're stronger and more confident, but you have to listen to me."

The human continued to stare coldly at Feliciano until the fairy's wings drooped and his posture dipped. He put his hands behind his back and averted his gaze.

"And stop calling me 'Doggie.'"


	8. Names New and Long Forgotten

Feliciano did not stop calling Ludwig "Doggie."

His companion's gruesome transformation into the dog-man that night only exacerbated the rate at which the fairy used the nickname. Either the dog-man would look at him coldly, causing him to trip over his words and address him with the first thing that came to mind, or the fairy would simply refer to his friend as Doggie because he was a dog, and that was the sort of thing he liked to call all dogs as a general form of endearment.

Each time Feliciano's tongue slipped, his companion would start to growl in protest. At the first few mistakes, it was a low rumbling deep within his throat and a disgruntled reminder of what his real name was. Later on, the growl grew louder, and if Feliciano tried to apologize, Ludwig would snap his jaws and bark a command to be silent. The fairy shrank back in fear and confusion at the one who had been so friendly earlier. Ludwig was not the friendliest person he'd ever met, but this stark contrast made Feliciano feel as if the blond human he'd seen during the daytime was a sort of long-time friend.

It was a waning crescent moon, and Feliciano longed to sing, or at least strum on his instrument. His lute was in the wooden box. He wanted to ask Ludwig if it was okay to play a little, but fearing the dog-man's temper, he silently took defeat and lay down on his side of the fire. The warmth on his wings was a wonderful sensation, as if the summer sun were still out to fill him with energy and life. He felt lucky to be traveling with someone who knew how to build a good fire. If the frosty winds came on with no warning, Feliciano would have to take care not to get his wings too cold, or they could crack and render him grounded.

He lay on his side and tilted his head so he could see the stars. There had to have been millions of flickering lights. Feliciano sighed in awe of the sky. He was technically in Volkerburg, so it was the Volkerburg sky he'd seen so long ago in his childhood. To the humans of Volkerburg, he thought to himself, the glittering stars must have been the only magic that existed. Little did people like Ludwig know of the fantastic powers found in fairy lands like Allegria. A tomato plant could grow in a day. Water could boil without a fire to heat it. People could fly on gossamer wings and sing lullabies that would really put people to sleep. Feliciano let out a soft sigh and wished he could play a song to help him sleep. He was already resentful of the coming morning, as Ludwig had made it clear he was to wake in the early hours for his "training", whatever that meant. If the early hours were before the stars went away, it would be the dog-man barking orders, and the fairy could only shiver at that notion.

Ludwig gave a long breath out. Feliciano looked to see that he was fully asleep. Creeping softly on hands and knees, he crawled over to the box and took the instrument out. Then, upon his stomach's sudden protest, he grabbed the swollen, red tomato he'd purchased that morning and looked around for a place to sit.

He found a stump that was far enough away from Ludwig where he thought the dog-man wouldn't be able to hear him if he played a few songs. Feliciano slung the lute over his shoulder and strummed a few notes absentmindedly. He hummed to tune the instrument and set about playing some simple melodies. The tomato was perfectly ripe, and it reminded him of the ones Lovino brought home after working in the summer. Lovino would always complain his tomatoes were blighted and tasted like dirt, but Feliciano never had a thought like that. He thought they were juicy and flavorful just like they were supposed to be.

Once he had settled into the mood, Feliciano began to play a real song. It was one he had learned under the tutelage of Herr Edelstein. He didn't know why he started playing it. The song was not lively, nor was it anything remotely interesting. The melody was blasé and predictable. The song was riddled with intricate eighth note runs he'd only learned because Herr Edelstein had forced him to practice them. He imagined they must have been a lot easier on a bow instrument like a fiddle. In the moonlight, he played them perfectly, yet the dull music did not make him smile or move with his instrument.

" _Do I have to keep playing this? It doesn't feel right, and it's so hard,"_ a child version of himself whimpered in the back of his mind.

" _The purpose of music is not to cast spells and enchant things. It is to make you smarter and more graceful. Now play that passage again, and no key signature mistakes this time, or you won't have any dessert,"_ a raspy voice retorted.

Then Feliciano remembered the accompaniment to the song played on the harpsichord, and he remembered thinking about how awful it was that Herr Edelstein practiced something insipid all day when he could have been playing a spirited dance people could actually enjoy. And Herr Edelstein did not just discourage Feliciano from playing his magical songs; he banned them all together. It seemed the man hated anything to do with magic!

Feliciano stopped playing the song to rid his head of unpleasant memories and began once again to tune for when he started playing a better song. He sang a few notes, and a night breeze rustled his hair and made his wings twitch and glint in the moonlight.

He tried to remember the notes to a sleep song he had once learned. He knew the way the song started, but he always had trouble with finding the key. It was a tricky one, and he almost always played a wrong note when starting the song. Feliciano plucked a few strings and furrowed his brow.

A rather cold gust of wind blew from out of nowhere, and he shivered. There was a strange feeling in the wind. It was like a pair of eyes was peering down his neck. The feeling dripped down like freezing liquid pouring over his shoulders and filled him with dread. The fairy looked around worriedly. At first, he saw no one, but the second time he looked to his left, someone was standing there. At least, he thought someone was.

It was as if the air had become denser and now hung heavy in the silhouette of a man.

Feliciano rubbed his eyes and held his wings up as reflectors for more light, but he couldn't shake the image from his vision. A breeze blew past, but the wraith did not waver. It only stood watching curiously.

Soon, the wraith seemed to notice how fearfully the fairy was looking at it. For a second, it straightened up, then dipped its apparent head low and said very quickly, "Are you able to see me? I am sorry if I am interrupting you. I wanted to listen to you play." Unlike its body, its voice was unwavering and lucid. It was a man's voice shaded with a thick accent the fairy did not recognize.

Feliciano stopped trembling, though his voice still shook, "I can see you, yes. If you want to listen, I suppose you can, but if you're a changeling, I have to warn you to stay away."

The wraith dipped low again. "Thank you, and once again, I am very sorry if I caused you to panic. Do not be fearful. Please allow me to make you see me better." The image shivered and rippled like a stone tossed in a pond. Two dots of bluish fire appeared where eyes might have been. The fire illuminated the wraith's body until it glowed a soft blue. Then the light dimmed, and the wraith now looked much more like a man. He was no longer transparent. The two dots of fire faded to leave hard brown eyes that gave no expression as to the wraith's mood. Black hair fell right above them, and to his ears on the sides.

His attire was just as strange as his accent. He wore a deep indigo robe that reached to his sandaled feet. His sleeves folded in half were half his height. A black sash was tied around his waist. If not for the way the edges of his clothes seemed to float a few inches instead of settling over him, and that his form gave a soft light of its own, he would have appeared to be completely human.

The wraith sat humorously cross-legged with perfect posture in front of Feliciano. "You do not have to play if you do not want to," he said.

With his guest in a less intimidating form, Feliciano flashed a quick smile. "I'll play a song for you." He finished tuning and began to strum the one he'd been practicing the night before after Ludwig had gone to sleep. It was the song that made one feel one with the night and the forest. This time, he added a few words to the phrases. They were mostly nonsensical Allegrian words and only there for the song to sound fuller. This was a song that made Feliciano happy. He felt proud strumming the chords and putting lyrics to his music. Halfway through the song, he even began swaying with the tune.

When he finished, he put his lute to the side of the stump and stood up to stretch.

The wraith clapped solemnly in appreciation. He, too, stood, and bowed in respect to the fairy. "Thank you for playing," he said.

"You're welcome," Feliciano grinned. "What's your name?"

"My name?" The wraith was taken aback, and his eyes widened with the question.

" _Sì!_ You have a name, don't you? I'm Feliciano Vargas Roma, and I'm from the kingdom of Allegria. I'm a fairy!"

"A fairy," the wraith said. "I am very pleased to meet you, Fairy-ciano. I am a wandering spirit, and I do not have a name."

His mouth dropped. "You don't have one? Why not?"

"I was once a man who had a name, but I brought great dishonor to myself, and so I had to take my life to pay for it. Now I am nameless."

"How can you be nameless? If you remember how you died, you should remember your name."

"I payed for my dishonor with my life and all memory of it. The only reason why I know how I died is because someone told me. A river spirit saw me take my life and informed me of what I had done."

"Was it bad?"

"It was worth my life," the spirit replied quickly.

The fairy frowned and looked at his feet. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Please do not apologize. It is I who should say I am sorry for burdening you with knowledge of my past, and for scaring you with my intrusion. If you would please forgive me for what I have done, I would be most grateful. However, you are never indebted to a dishonorable spirit, and so if you do not want to, that is also okay."

Feliciano looked at the spirit strangely. His overly polite way of speaking made it hard to tell if he was being serious or not. His face only remained emotionless as he asked for forgiveness.

"I forgive you," he smiled.

"Thank you," the spirit said. He then turned and walked toward the trees.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I must continue on. Only ten thousand deeds of kindness will help me to restore my honor and remember who I was. I must find someone else to make smile."

"Don't go," the fairy said. "I want to help you. Maybe you can do something kind for Doggie. You can stay with us if you want. We're camping right over there. You could help me find my inheritance."

The spirit stopped. "You want to help me?"

"Sure! It could be fun. If you need to do ten thousand nice things for people, I can help you find people that need help."

"I cannot do things that people ask me to do. Those deeds do not count. They must be things that I offer to do selflessly. They must add up to a life given in exchange for life. That is why I must do so many."

Feliciano winked. "I'm not asking you. I'm just saying it would be fun if you did come along and travel with Doggie and me. Doggie won't know you have to do nice things, so he'd like it if you offered to help him in some way. We're trying to find a treasure my grandpa left."

"Maybe," replied the spirit.

"That is not a dog," the spirit said somewhat loudly when the fairy had brought him back to the camp. The two of them looked at the hulking creature wearing the night cloak. "I thought you were talking about a dog. That is not a dog."

"Of course he isn't a dog. Doggie's, em, his name isn't really Doggie, and he's only like this at night. He's cursed to be a dog- _man._ But we have to be quiet because he might get angry if we wake him up."

"How is it that you tamed him?"

"He's not wild, just grumpy. He's my friend. During the day, he's a regular human."

"I see."

Feliciano scampered back over to his side of the fire and lay down on his stomach. "We might have one extra blanket for you if you want. Do spirits sleep? Maybe you don't need to sleep, but you must be tired after wandering around for so long. I can see if I can remember a song to help you sleep. Oh, but maybe Doggie wouldn't like that. He's kind of ornery tonight."

"I will be fine just as I am," the spirit said. His voice was forceful, as if the fairy's friendliness was too much to handle.

"Really?"

"I do feel tired, but it is just a habit left over from being alive. Things like that are trivial now."

"You don't sleep or dream?"

"As is the curse of dishonor," the spirit mumbled.

"You can't even eat good food?"

"That would be even more dishonorable."

The fairy's brow dipped. "And you don't even have a name. I have to call you _something."_

"I am no one."

Feliciano rolled onto his side and pulled part of the blanket up over his chest. "Do you at least remember where you lived?"

"I do not remember, but when I began my journey as a spirit, I was in a peaceful place with fluttering flower petals and mountains. And the sea crashed on the shores like thunder. If that is the place where I lived, then I caused a great and terrible unrest, and my death was most necessary."

Feliciano gave a soft little sigh. "I have to call you _something._ Just pick a nickname. I call Doggie 'Doggie', and that's not his real name. Everyone in my family calls me 'Felice'."

The spirit put a hand to his chin in thought. However, it did not take him very long to think of something, as names were yet another trivial part of his posthumous existence, and he did not care what he was called, so long as it was respectable. "The place where I came from had a flower that was called _Kiku,_ and I found it to be very pretty."

"Kiku. That's fun to say."

"If it will help you to remember me, you are welcome to use it," the spirit replied.

"I will. _Buonanotte,_ Kiku," Feliciano yawned, and with that, he was soon carried away into sleep.

* * *

Ice-blue eyes shot open, and Ludwig gave a loud, canine groan as he awoke. The stars above were beginning to fade.

The short one to two hours just before the sun started to show could be the most embarrassing and the most invigorating in this form. It was then when Ludwig's instincts fully kicked in. His emotions were distorted and exaggerated. All the logical thinking of his human mind was diluted to a mere affirmative or negative, and even this could be blurry.

He felt the need to hunt and to run and to be wild in his natural environment. Here in the wilds of Volkerburg, he also felt terribly homesick and wished that his master, Gilbert, would appear and talk to him and pet him. Ludwig had never told Gilbert his dog mind thought he was a master instead of a brother. He imagined the changeling turning bright red and laughing, much to the cursed one's dismay.

He stretched his great, firm muscles and started biting at the clasp keeping his cloak on. A dog had no use for such a thing, nor did he have a use for pants or undergarments. Those slipped off easily if he shook his legs and clawed at the cuffs.

The smoldering, smokey smell leftover from the fire reached his nose. He looked to see a half-naked-wingy-man sleeping on the other side of the pit. He bared his teeth, but the strange voice in his mind told him to stop. The wingy was a friend. He was good. Getting down on all fours, he investigated the various other smells emanating from around the area. This place was new. There were lots of tree smells. A raccoon had passed by very recently with some savory food. He could smell a human with the same scent he had. In the blurry state of mind, that was puzzling.

His nose led him to vestiges of a tomato, which he lapped up before continuing the investigation. The wingy friend's scent was heavy around a stump. The stump smelled like tomato and fungus.

His ears suddenly perked up at the sound of chewing. He sniffed and smelled a rabbit behind some bushes. He crept closer to the underbrush. _No,_ the invisible voice said to him. It was deep and commanding. Ludwig ignored the voice and continued stalking the prey. _No!_ It said louder. Ludwig started to bark confusedly at the nonexistent master. In his struggle, he heard the rabbit scamper off into the brush. He chased it excitedly, all the while hitting his strangely-shaped front paws on rocks. His bark rang out clear and strong, warning other creatures that might fall prey to his excellent nose and ears.

The rabbit dashed around a huge boulder and down into a hole in the ground. Furious, Ludwig forced his muzzle into the hole and barked mercilessly. His front claws dug at the surface. Dirt flew this way and that. His paws and nose were painted a deep brown. The more desperate he became, the more his barking sounded like whining. Eventually, with no rabbit in sight, Ludwig whimpered and set about finding something else to chase.

Soon, he had caught and killed himself a fat gray mouse near the camp and feasted. No part of the creature was leftover to bury. The warm meat satisfied a part of his early morning hunger. He sat on the black cloak and panted with a proud gleam in his blue eyes, and occasionally, he licked his chops to get every last taste of fresh prey. That was, until he noticed the _other_ man in the camp: the one sitting next to the wingy friend and looking at him with a suppressed display of disgust and discomfort.

Ludwig lunged toward the stranger and let out a blaring chain of barks. How dare this man intrude into his territory? The wingy was a friend, so the strange voice said, but this man was entirely new, and had to be driven out!

The man put his hands up, and Ludwig rushed forward to knock him over. His massive size was more than enough to plow the small stranger into the ground. The dog-man rushed to throw his shoulder into the stranger's chest. His shoulder hit the dirt hard.

Not discouraged in the least, he rushed from behind and bit at the stranger's neck. His jaws snapped together with no flesh between them. He tried again and again, but each time he only received a mouthful of air. The stranger sat frozen with his eyes wide, trying to wait out the attacks.

By this time, the wingy friend was alert and high up in a tree. He shouted tangled phrases at the scene down below in a grating, high-pitched voice. Whether the words were directed toward the stranger or him, he did not care. He was the one in charge. He guarded this territory. The wingy friend was merely permitted to sleep here. It was not his job to determine who came in and who did not. The stranger clapped his hands over his ears to keep out the din of Ludwig's snarling voice. Ludwig tried biting the stranger's wrists, but again, he could not get them between his mighty jaws.

A sharp pain suddenly erupted in his breast, and it spread through his body in a matter of seconds. Ludwig recoiled and whined. He thrust his tail between his legs, which were now weakening as the muscles became looser and thicker. He yelped as his fur disappeared to leave pale, smooth skin. The claws on his front paws turned short and flat. His jaw pushed in tightly toward his face with the force of a club smacking him. He tried barking, but his voice came out in a hoarse screech.

Shaking, Ludwig began to hear that voice again, but it told him more things than just yes or no or friend. It told him to stop and let this happen, and for some reason, he understood what it said. He snarled as the last wave of pain rushed over him, and the voice suddenly merged with his being. They were his own thoughts, and not the commands of a distant stranger.

He looked down at himself, fully human and fully naked, and buried his face in his hands.

"I am not looking," the stranger said.

Ludwig found his discarded clothes and put them on, grimacing at the slobber and bite marks. A pink, burning heat still graced his cheeks. "Who are you?" He asked the stranger.

The stranger peeked through his fingers to make sure the now-human was fully-clothed. "I am called Kiku," he said. "I am a wandering spirit who found your camp last night. Your friend invited me to stay here."

Ludwig peered up at the fairy in the tree. He hugged the trunk so tightly that his nails dug into the bark. Star-filled eyes were clenched tightly shut out of the fear the monster had not completely reverted to human form.

Then Ludwig looked back at Kiku. With his logic back, it was clear to see that the man was obviously an intangible spirit. His body was partly transparent in the light of the sunrise. His expression gave no sign of malevolence, and the way he sat without attacking the dog-man showed he at least had a conscience.

"My apologies, Kiku," he said to the spirit gruffly. "Feliciano, come down from there! It is time to begin your training. And what were you thinking bringing someone you don't know here?"

"I didn't know you would try to attack him," Feliciano whimpered. "Besides, Kiku wanted to find a way to help you and maybe come with us."

"No, no, there is no need," Kiku said defensively. "I am perfectly fine with leaving if I am not desired. I must respect the wishes of the living. I bid you good day, Doggie-san."

"You taught him to call me 'Doggie', too?"

"I said it was just a nickname!"

"What is your real name?" Kiku asked.

"Ludwig," he replied curtly.

"Will you be staying here long?"

"That depends. It is Feliciano's right to decide where and when we are going. We are looking for an amulet that can grant wishes. It was in his grandfather's possession, and was promised to him as inheritance. If it was my choice, I would say we left now." The last part he directed toward the tree. Feliciano loosened his grip on the trunk and looked pitifully down at Ludwig's hardened gaze.

In truth, Ludwig was simply embarrassed beyond belief at what he had done earlier. He remembered every joyous moment as he triumphantly dispatched and ate the mouse. His transformed mind would never let him protest and stop his action. The stomach pains and gory breath after such occurrences were yet another thing he hated about the curse.

"I think we can go," Feliciano said. Then cautiously, he lowered himself from the tree the same way he'd done after the changeling sighting. Remembering that mishap, he shivered. "Yes, we _have_ to go. I'm not going into that town again with the changeling. It was the same one who came the night before. Maybe he wasn't looking for a group of people. Maybe he was just looking for someone well-off, and _I'm_ well-off. The problem is, I just don't know where we're supposed to go to find this amulet. I liked so many different things as a child."

"What was your favorite thing to do when you spent time with Roma?"

The fairy fell silent. He closed his eyes and tried to think hard. "Painting," he said at last. "Yes, I remember a lot about painting with him. He taught me how to paint the sky and the animals and landscapes, and I was really good at it. I even painted a portrait of him once."

"And where did you paint?"

"Around Grandpa's villa, usually, but we also painted in Amotoile. Grandpa would take me to the capital of Amotoile, and we would both sing and paint for money."

"And those are _two_ things you like to do."

The fairy's face brightened. " _Sì!"_ He exclaimed. "Maybe it's in the capital of Amotoile! We could go north to get there! Kiku, you could find lots of people who don't know they need your help!"

"I do not want to shock anyone with my presence," Kiku said.

Feliciano's smile only got bigger. "If you want to remember who you were, you have to start somewhere. Doggie, Kiku is trying to do ten thousand deeds of kindness so he can get his honor back and remember who he was. They have to be selfless deeds. He can come with, right? He'd be doing a good deed by helping us."

Ludwig looked to the spirit and his unwavering brown eyes. If honor was achieved by doing good things, then it was perplexing as to whether helping in this situation would count as good or evil. Ludwig was only using the fairy to steal his amulet for Gilbert and himself, but he also needed the amulet to be able to undo the curse. Assisting on the quest would be assisting a thief and a changeling, but it would also be helping to lift a dreadful burden from a man's shoulders.

Ludwig wondered if Kiku could see his thoughts and know what he was truly planning. Another man on board could be risky. He didn't know Kiku, and couldn't know whether he was clever enough to figure out his real objective. He could not hurt the spirit physically, and he had no magic to fight against him with in that way. Summoning Gilbert would only make Feliciano distrust him. The cons far outweighed the pros for allowing Kiku to travel alongside.

Feliciano stood anxiously waiting for an answer. Ludwig decided then, against all costs, that the fairy's trust was the most important thing on the line. He had to be as friendly as possible, lest Feliciano become suspicious and not allow him to assist in finding his inheritance any longer. Feliciano was fascinated by Kiku's plight and fascinated by doing kindness. As for Kiku, if he was truly offering himself up to travel with such a terrible monster, it _was_ a selfless endeavor. Ludwig would simply have to study the spirit and attempt to create a plan for deceiving him as well as the fairy once the amulet had been found.

" _Ja,"_ he quietly sighed in response to the question. "Kiku, you may come along if you wish."

"I would be honored," Kiku said with a small smile. Feliciano laughed at the pun and emulated his new friend's expression.

"Let's go then," Ludwig said. He finished packing up their things and gave Feliciano's to him. "Where must we go?"

"Northward," the fairy said. "It's this way." He lifted his wings and prepared to take flight.

"Running," Ludwig said. "Training starts with running. You can fly fast, but can you run for something other than a changeling chasing you?"

All signs of bubbliness disappeared from Feliciano's face. "I don't know if I could run very far. It's so early in the morning," he complained.

"Let's see how far you _can_ run," Ludwig replied.

"I will run as well, though I regret to inform you that I will not feel any physical stress as a consequence," Kiku added. This only made Feliciano slump more.

The trio carefully evaded the town to get to the forested trail stretching north, and from there they began running.

The fairy dragged his feet after a quarter mile.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Some characters' ages have been altered to fit the timeline of the AU**


	9. Fairy's Pique

Arthur traced the reddish-purple bruise under his right eye and scowled at his reflection. Most of the swelling had gone down by now, leaving the bright green of his eye to be gravely complemented with the purple streak. There was a deep red bruise on his shin, and a little scab from a cut graced his upper lip. His left side ached around the ribs. He cringed at vestiges of dried blood in his nose from being punched repeatedly.

It hadn't been long after Francis left in the afternoon for the humans of the inn to start growing suspicious. The people saw Yao and paid him no mind. They saw the snow demon and out of fear treated him with a silent, modest reverence. Then they saw Lord Kirkland. They saw the way his ears were sharply pointed and heard him speak with the Isle's accent, and they foisted upon him the title of changeling.

And once the people of the inn came to the conclusion that Arthur was the same changeling that had terrorized their town the previous night, they set to work paying him back for his terror. He was dragged from where he had been sitting by a brute of a man who then held his wrists together behind his back so he couldn't move. Humans of varying degrees of anger surrounded him. The angrier ones started to bark irrational questions and accusations.

Arthur denied ever coming into their town for malice or being the sort of creature who would do such a thing. When his protest did not comply with their suspicions, (as what would a pointy-eared man be doing in Amotoile if he were _not_ a changeling,) they began to hit him. The blow to the eye was what started the fuss. Then he was kicked in the shins by a woman with pointy-toed boots, and before he could identify the one who had punched him near the eye, a meaty fist was thrown into his nose.

Yao was the first one to come to his aid, and for that, he felt slightly indebted to the human. He landed a few expertly-thrown kicks and punches to Arthur's oppressors. Unfortunately, this was enough for the remaining to call Yao a changeling as well. Arthur remembered them calling him an accomplice and turning on him. Although, with Yao's trained skills in hand-to-hand combat, he barely received any injuries.

Still, no one dared to attack the snow demon, which turned out to be a grave mistake. As the fighting continued, the demon's pleasure caused the room to grow icy cold, and a few snowflakes landed on the floor and melted. Soon, the floor became quite slippery. Several fell to the ground trying to reach out and hit anyone they could. Arthur crawled on the floor for cover in the increasing chaos, but someone grabbed at the neck of his waistcoat and pulled him up again. He was punched both in the side and in the nose while others cheered for his pain.

His oppressor swore curses and spat all over his white-wine hair. He pulled Arthur's ears, calling him a demon, a monster, and a freeloading, life-stealing child-of-all-evil.

Just as Arthur had finally wriggled free and had enough focus to deal a magical blow to the man, Sir Francis entered the inn and yelled so loudly that Ivan suddenly lost interest in the fighting. In the demon's distraction, a fluffy pile of snow dropped out of nowhere and landed on Yao, causing the human to curse out loud.

"Where is this changeling?" Francis demanded.

Fingers pointed to the fairy and human, though Francis' interest was mostly in the one with the darkening eye. Indigo eyes scrutinized the situation with no apparent anger. Then the knight glowered at Arthur's current oppressor. He took his scissors and brought them across Arthur's cheek, then across Yao's. When no burn marks appeared on either man, he brought them upstairs and allowed them both to stay in Yao's room. (Upon first accusing Arthur of being a changeling, some had figured out which room he was staying in and trashed it. About half his money and his golden pocket watch had been pillaged from his belongings.)

Several hours later, Arthur sat a bit hunched in the shoulders and analyzed his various wounds. His mind was in turmoil as his thoughts rushed to select the appropriate response to his ordeal. However, no matter what he decided to show, his countenance would only remain either indifferent, or in its usual, constant state of disapproval.

"I have a tea that can make you heal faster," Yao remarked upon seeing Arthur's plight next to the mirror.

"I'll be quite all right, Yao," Arthur replied. Then to prove this, he brought his finger to the stinging crack in his lip and shaped his inner magical pulse for a healing spell. His finger glowed a faint green over the wound. The scab bubbled and liquefied, and the skin around it merged as if it had never been cut at all. Arthur wiped the leftover blood off with a handkerchief. "Better," he remarked.

Yao stood stupefied in the fairy's presence. "How can you do that!?"

"Impressive, isn't it? And yet those damn humans of Amotoile see even my appearance and call me a bloody monster. A hundred ways of telling whether a man is a changeling, and they lay the title on the first fairy they come into contact with."

"You must resemble the real changeling very well. Do you think he copied you to frame you?"

Arthur shuddered. It certainly was a thing that a changeling would do if he had the chance. The sheer thought of a real dark fairy gallivanting around in _his_ shape doing who knows what in a fairy-loathing land like Amotoile was enough to put him on edge. It made him tremble even more when he remembered what Francis had said. The changeling was supposedly looking for a group meeting in town, _just like Arthur had._

Maybe the changeling had swiped Arthur's shape and was just waiting for him to arrive, so he could dispatch him and present himself as the real Lord Kirkland. He could play along, and if the Mercs had succeeded in preventing the catastrophe, he could snag the reward for himself and go home to Kirkland Manor rich and richer. Had Arthur not been clever enough to see a changeling watching him? Had it been following him and Allistor? Why didn't it just attempt to knock out Arthur when it had the chance? Had Arthur seriously been outwitted by a changeling?

"You do not look well. Magic or not, I must prepare tea for you. It will calm your mind."

"Please do, Yao. That would be lovely. I believe I'll retire soon. My wounds should heal themselves by morning. I need not expend energy healing them now."

Yao retrieved spices from his belongings. Arthur caught the human stealing glances at him as if he were the most remarkable of beings, and then turning back to his own interests in a silent, personal scolding. The fairy's heart lit with pride. His lips twitched up in a cocky reception of interest.

"Tell me, Arthur, is it really possible to boil water without fire?" Yao asked casually. He held his silver water kettle in one hand and a handful of spices in the other.

"Perfectly possible. All you have to do is heat it up."

The human furrowed his brow. "But how do you heat without fire?"

Arthur's pride only swelled. He put on an expression of arrogant modesty and said, "Hold out your kettle, and I'll show you."

It was a heat spell. Simple to work yet depending on the strength and passion of the caster. Arthur held both of his hands out and concentrated on weaving his inner magic to just the right form. His emerald eyes shimmered. He poured his pride and confidence into the spell. Greenish light spread between his fingers, and static danced on the points of his ears. Within moments, the kettle started to steam on the outside. After half a minute, the water within was bubbling excitedly.

"Hot enough for you?" He asked as if the task was trivial.

Yao's eyes twinkled like a child's, though he tried to be mature and suppress his intrigue. He began to pour the water and sat on the bed next to Arthur. "Where I come from, only the dragons have magic. They live in the oceans and rivers and high in the mountains, so people do not often see them. They have great power and can shape the world around them to however they please. They are creatures of legend."

"I'm certainly not a dragon," Arthur said. He wasn't so sure he could handle any more of this face-reddening flattery. But he was good at hiding it, so he let Yao keep speaking.

"But you can do things like one. If you came to my town and boiled water without fire and healed yourself without salve, everyone would think you were a dragon walking among them. What is it like where you live? Does everyone have magic like you? Can you all do things like this?"

Arthur crossed one leg over the other and watched Yao mix the spices into the water. "Naturally, all the fair folk have magic. It's especially important where I come from. Fairies are expected to go to school and study the magical arts, and some of them move on to become magicians. Those are fairies who cast spells and study magic as a profession. I'm a magician myself." He put a hand to his chest proudly. "Unfortunately, it's not as lavish as you would imagine. I'm supposing the dragons in your land are able to use magic as they please with no punishments if they don't behave."

"Dragons always have good intentions. They are the ones who bring the spring storms."

"Right. Fairies are not like dragons. On the Isle of Rain, we fairies are not allowed to do as we please, despite any one fairy's abilities. Since everyone is capable of magic, everyone is capable of misusing it or looking as if he intends to be malicious. And because of creatures like changelings who use magic to steal people away, there are rules for magic set in place by the queen and her council. Rules like magical curfews for non-magicians and requiring anti-magic shields around storefronts to prevent theft.

"The biggest rule is that no one, regardless of status or study, is allowed to delve into dark magic. It's the kind the changelings are apt with. High-energy and capable of incredible transformations. If anyone is caught even playing with it, he's arrested immediately, an investigation occurs, and the Council of Fairies holds the trial in their court. It's a dreadful process."

"Magic is a crime?"

"Magic can be criminal, law and order, or just stupid. However, it's mostly a great convenience."

"I would imagine so," Yao said. He handed Arthur his cup of tea.

The fairy lord was fond of tea at home. Every morning and every afternoon he would sit with a hot cup and cherish his time with a book. When his cup ran dry, he would call for his servant, and it would be refilled and steaming once again. He had tried so many different flavors that he had become a sort of connoisseur when it came to teas. Naturally, he was expecting Yao's tea to be similar to the spices traders would bring from the Eastern Sea on some rare occasions.

Arthur sipped from his cup and beamed. It was the simple flavor of tea leaves with a few extra spices for good measure, yet its flavor was so much fresher than he'd expected. The water was hot on his tongue, and the flavor was cool and satisfying. He had met many a man who claimed to have cared about good tea, and Yao surpassed all expectation. Arthur decided then that the human was his ally in this unsettling endeavor even though he wouldn't announce any such thing.

"This is delicious," he said.

"I am glad you like it. It should ease your pain, too. I know some things about creating restoratives, and I also sell them. My proverb is that any restorative that does not taste good will not heal."

"All the better for helping me to sleep," Arthur said. After finishing his tea, he began untying his cravat.

"Oh no! I have just realized. There is only one bed in this room, and it is not big enough for two," Yao said.

Arthur froze. The human was right. "I'll just go back to mine, then."

"Isn't yours full of nails and salt? They may not burn you, but I would not want to sleep on a bed of rusty nails."

"That is a problem. I suppose we could take turns sleeping in it."

"For how long? I am sure the night is half over already. The moon is right above us. We would not be very happy in the morning if we each slept for one quarter of the night.

"We must do something. If we don't sleep at all, we'll be more than a little irritated."

"One must sleep on the floor. We must have plenty of pillows and blankets between us. The only problem is figuring out who will do it."

"Okay, the—"

"I have a bad back."

"I'm injured."

"You said you would heal by morning, though."

"I am a lord."

"I am rich."

"So am I because I'm a _lord."_

"I am older than you."

"How can you be older than me?"

"Age and height are not relative once someone becomes an adult."

"I boiled your water for you."

"And I saved your sorry ass without magic," Yao said, crossing his arms. Satisfied with his argument, he unbound his hair and let it fall gracefully over his shoulders. Arthur was nudged to the side, and the human slipped under the covers of the bed and bid the fairy goodnight.

Arthur solemnly acquiesced and blew out the candles. He built himself a makeshift bed out of pillows and blankets and tried to camp out on the floor. Arthur tried to convince himself that this stupid endeavor would probably involve him sleeping in a tree at some point, so he tried to make the most of what he had at the moment. He supposed that this was the debt he had to pay because of Yao's intervention that afternoon.

Surprisingly, he fell asleep with no trouble, as the day's stressful events were riding upon his back. Something comfortable to lie on was heavenly. His head pressed into the pillow ever so lightly, and his sore ears took solace in something soft. A pocket of heat slowly formed beneath the covers. Arthur smiled and snuggled deeper into the warm embrace. He gave a long sigh of pleasure, and his worries faded away.

 _The boyish voice of the testifier. Waves of heat rising in the lord's face. Sweat beading. Snarky looks from his brothers. The Council's disappointed gaze. The fairy queen's frown. The humiliating questions. Scissors and nails on his skin. A sentence of shame. A nation against him. Brothers adoring the traitor who exposed the lord's dark art._

" _I hate you!" The lord screamed._

" _I hate you too!" A voice shrill yet frighteningly similar._

 _Then in silence, the lord in tears: "What have I done?"_

Arthur's heart pounded when he awoke. His nightmare coerced him awake after only two hours of sleeping. He hadn't had one so vivid and so quick after nodding off in a long time. It was said on the Isle of Rain that a dark dream of one's past reflected an onerous weight on the mind. Arthur drew away his blanket and took some deep breaths to calm the storm in his chest.

In the bed, Yao was sleeping with a soft smile on his face. The fairy felt envious of whatever sweet dream he must have been having at the moment. His own eyes stung with the suddenness of his arousal, and his body refused to let him get up and drink some more of Yao's restorative tea. However, upon thinking of the tea, he realized that though his fair body healed much quicker than a human's, the tea had to have had an influence on the reduction of his pain.

He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything good. The burdensome situations in his life far outweighed the peaceful ones. It had been ages since he'd experienced a cup of tea and a book without being interrupted. When he did find the time, he knew it was only a temporary measure. Someone was always behind closed doors or flipping through his books or seemingly breathing down his neck until his hair stood on end. That was the permanent mistrust set in stone by his actions.

And now he was very far from home in a land that jumped to conclusions when laying eyes upon him. Even Sir Francis hesitated upon first seeing the scene in the tavern. Yao was the only one who really gave a damn about his well-being immediately.

That changeling could have been framing him in other places.

Perhaps it was not the situations in his life that satisfied him, but rather his own personal interests. Regardless of what it had made him into, he loved magic with his whole heart. He admired times when he could ride his horse around the countryside and smell the fresh air of summer. A rare night with clear skies was always ripe for sitting outside, needlework in hand. Sometimes he would sleep in too late, but if he were to be honest with himself, those were the most pleasurable of mornings. And most every day, the eponymous rain would pitter-patter down on the roof of Kirkland Manor, bringing with it an electric twinge of magic in the air. Those were the relaxing days. Those were the good days.

Arthur sighed in memory of the good days.

* * *

Arthur thought that when he awoke in the morning, he would be the one grumbling of tiredness. He was not. After tossing and turning for a while, he'd managed to get a rounded four hours of sleep, and when Yao woke him up, his black eye had miraculously diminished to a slight gray shadow that was only visible in bright light.

Francis was not a morning person.

"Do you know what dreadful hour of the day it is that you chose to drag me from my beauty sleep?" The human griped. His words slurred with yawns as if he were drunk.

Yao shook the man. "You said the fairy flew away yesterday after you were this close to knowing who the writer was. What direction did he fly in? If he was camping, we may still be able to find him."

"Exactly, so wipe that sleep and pick up your feet. You want this more than all of us," Arthur said.

"I have feeling that this will be a bright day for adventuring," Ivan smiled.

The group shuffled through the streets of Lafée toward the site of the incident yesterday. Francis wiped his bleary eyes dramatically in a way that made Arthur question whether this was the same man who acted so confident and responsible just one day ago.

"All right, if this is where you met Feliciano, where did he fly?" Yao asked.

Francis scanned the sky. He sucked in air through his teeth and twirled a strand of platinum hair around his finger.

"Well, which direction was it?" Arthur urged.

"I never did see him fly away," Francis said.

Yao facepalmed. "You stupid—"

"How did you not see where he was going?" Arthur yelled.

"Would you rather I _not_ be concerned about _you, mon cher?"_ Francis replied calmly.

"What does that mean!?"

"It means that I'm not heartless. Would you rather I leave you with those brutes at the inn?"

"No, what did you say in your hideous, frog-croaking language about me?"

"I called you my dear, my dear Arthur."

"Don't you call me your _dear._ You _smiled_ when you saw them torturing me yesterday!"

"Ah, so you do care that I came to rescue you."

"That's beside the point."

"Francis did not smile," Ivan said.

"No, no he didn't," Yao agreed.

"He stood there for a little bit, but he did not smile. Maybe you saw me smiling instead."

"The point I'm trying to make, Francis, is that you never told the inn that I was a friend. You just let them assume I was the changeling who entered their town and did who knows what."

"I did not want to draw attention to you. They might have thought I was an accomplice. I do not often visit this town," Francis reasoned.

"What about the scissors constantly in your hands?"

"I meant that they may have thought I was allowing you safe passage if you _were_ a changeling. That I was an accomplice because I showed a changeling a good place to stay."

"Can we please forget about this?" Yao said angrily. "The more time we waste arguing, the more time the fairy and _his_ accomplices have to get away."

"You know, Arthur, if you were a changeling..." Francis started.

"Shut it," Arthur snapped. He turned around and took a deep breath. There was no use arguing here. He was merely angry because of his midnight despair, and the knight's do-no-wrong attitude was acting as a trigger. "Ivan, I want to know if you can smell any fairies that were here. Your demon senses are sharper than all of ours, are they not?"

"Oh, yes, of course I can smell fairies. Three of them," Ivan replied.

"Three?"

Ivan's goat-like nose sniffed at the morning breeze. "I can smell three fairies that were here recently, yes. One is winged and smells like tomatoes and wine. One is you. And the other one..."

"A changeling?" Francis asked.

"Does it also smell like me?" Arthur asked, eyes wide.

"Yes, you do smell like a changeling," Francis muttered.

"I heard that!"

"No, it does not," Ivan said. "If it smelled like you, I would only smell two fairies. No, this one is different, though I do not think it is a changeling. It is wingless fairy, like you.

"Doesn't smell like me, and not a changeling, eh? The poor chap must have come here not knowing how savage these people are. They probably called him out on being a changeling when he was just a normal fairy," Arthur said. The question of whether a changeling had stolen his form had been solved. "Can you tell me what he smells like, Ivan?"

"His scent is very faint," the demon said. "But I can tell you he is smelling like sea salt."

"Sea salt?" Yao asked.

"Yes _,_ it is sea salt scent. Perhaps this fairy came from the Isle of Rain."

"Could it be my brother Allistor you're smelling? He was here with me when I arrived yesterday."

"Unlikely," Ivan said. "He was here before yesterday, and I am telling you that this scent is not smelling like you. It does not smell like tea and roses and a dirty floor where you slept last night."

"I had pillows," the fairy said begrudgingly.

"And what was your nightmare about? Perhaps I can give you tip on how to calm yourself down." The demon smiled eerily again.

"How do you know about that?" Arthur asked so quietly it was like a squeak.

"I can see secrets. Is special demon skill," Ivan said amiably.

"You had a nightmare!? I should have given you the bed," Yao said.

"No, no, it's quite all right, Yao. The floor was perfectly comfortable." Arthur felt paper thin like a crinkled, dead leaf in autumn. He solemnly wished that the wind would just carry him away from this utter _nonsense._ There was a tingling sensation under his shoulder blades as if wings should be there. He could fly away and never worry about being a mercenary for an unknown writer. Arthur looked at the ground, his countenance a cracked smile of awkward uncertainty. That was when he noticed the glitter-like substance on the pavement.

"Fairy dust!" He exclaimed. The others looked at him strangely. "When winged fairies fly, their wings shed a trail of fairy dust. Look here." He pointed to the golden sheen.

"Feliciano had golden wings," Francis said, " and they were sparkly just like this."

Arthur clapped a hand to his forehead. "All we have to do is follow the trail, and it'll lead us right to him. Why didn't I think of this before?"

"You are very stressed, Arthur," Ivan said.

Arthur gave a slight frown to the demon. "If and when the trail ends, Ivan can tell us where the fairy went based on scent. We can track him like a stag."

"All praise to the Fellowship!" Francis sang.

"It is Mercs of the Messy Hand," Yao said.

"Yes, I believe we agreed on that notion," Arthur said.

"That name does not suit us. It is not fashionable."

"You are not fashionable!" Yao retorted.

"Ivan, what is Francis hiding?" Arthur asked.

"Do not tell them anything," Francis warned.

"Oh, so you are hiding something worth mentioning?" Arthur said.

"I can really only see things that people try to hide in the moment. Apology."

Arthur acquiesced the failure to poke fun at Francis. The knight was already beginning to trace the trail of spilled dust. The fairy gripped his bag of belongings, furrowed his thick eyebrows somewhat confidently, and led the way into the forest.


	10. Travel With Great Elan

Soon enough, the Mercs of the Messy Hand found themselves in Ludwig's camp, but unfortunately, they had been too late to catch its campers, and the site was abandoned. Strange looks flew from man to man as different peculiarities were observed. Light brown fur had been shed everywhere as if a great beast had entered the area. There were tiny splashes of blood in the dirt signifying violence. Huge claw marks were left scraped in the ground from the creature. Ash from the fire pit swirled around in the wind. The charred remains of logs sat white, cold and still.

The large wooden box was empty, though one corner was full of soft, shimmery fairy dust from Feliciano's first frantic flight from town. Yao seemed to be quite interested in the substance and asked Arthur if it had any special properties that made it useful, and more importantly, profitable. Arthur replied that it was simply dust and wouldn't make anything float in the air or heal the sick. Needless to say, Yao still pocketed handfuls of the dust from the box, just in case it did prove to be worth something later on.

The majority of the dust trail ended in the camp, and there was a smaller trail that was harder to see leading away. Arthur said that was from a fairy on foot. Hope was further restored that Feliciano had not been eaten by a monster when Ivan said the beast smelled like a dog, and the small trail leading out of the camp had the scents of a fairy and human. The human must have been Ludwig after reverting to human form.

With Ivan leading the way after the scent of fairy, the four traveled to a trail head with a name that read _Crested Trail_ in Amotoile's language. It was a narrow trail. Nowadays people often came to Lafée from the road by horse. The floor of the trail was overgrown with weeds and moss. Arthur thought he saw a few snakes slithering through the long grass, and Yao was delighted to find a little turtle trying to cross. Before any of them knew it, half the day had been spent on the trail, and they were no closer to finding the fairy nor the human. It seemed they were always a step ahead and just out of sight.

It was when Yao spotted a small, dilapidated cabin partially hidden from the view of the trail when they decided to rest and take the pressure off of their weary legs. The other three protested. Arthur complained that resting would just waste time and allow the others to get even farther ahead, Francis was disgusted by the accommodation, and Ivan wasn't sure he would be able to fit into the cabin with his incredible stature.

"You must consider the well-being of your companions," Yao retorted after hearing the complaints. "My back aches from all this walking, and my legs are not the best for continuing on all day. This place looks nice enough."

"How in the world did you even get to Amotoile?" Francis asked.

"Walking and by horse. It is a long vacation."

Francis pulled open the door of the cabin. It was surprisingly well-furnished. Arthur could not understand why Ludwig and Feliciano could not have just stayed here for the night. Perhaps they hadn't seen it. It was hidden a little ways back in the trees. Two bunk beds lined the far wall, and a dry, splintered table sat in the middle. The roof had some holes that needed patching, but the weather didn't look like rain would come that night. Outside the cabin, there was a little clearing with an overgrown fire ring and smoothed over rocks for seats. Vestiges of fires long past rested in the grass and ash.

"I suppose I am getting a mite hungry," Arthur remarked as he explored the grounds. "But if we are to stay here, we mustn't leave it a mess in case it is someone's property."

Francis whipped his head around from where he was standing to look at the fairy. "You are hungry, dear Arthur? Say no more."

"You cook?" Yao asked, eyes sparkling. "I cook, too!"

"Do you? Ah, yes, I do remember you saying something about that. Yao, _mon cher,_ you are looking at a master of the culinary arts. You may watch as I transform this food from town into a feast for the ages."

"I will not just watch. I will help you," Yao said.

"How are you going to cook that?" Arthur asked casually.

"We'll need to clear this fire ring. You can do that, can't you? We shouldn't get our hands dirty before working with the food."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but he saw an opportunity to show his usefulness here. It was already a dry afternoon. Even the dew in the morning hadn't been enough to completely soak his boots when walking on the trail. The fairy knelt down beside the fire ring and concentrated on his heat spell. He focused on the grass in the ring, weaving his magical energy to jus the right shape. Suddenly, a lick of flame ignited a blade of grass, then another, and another. The fire ring burst into voracious flame, sending a wave of heat around to make the gathered sweat even more. The flames died as quickly as they came, and black, smoking curls of grass remained. Arthur took the poker leaning behind the cabin and swished the ash around.

"Who wants to fetch wood?" He asked.

"I can do that, yes," Ivan said. With his size, he was able to walk right through the twisted undergrowth of the surrounding forest and snap logs into smaller pieces with his bare hands. Little pockets of frost formed where he gripped them. He brought back a dozen and set them down close to the ring. Arthur began to stack them log cabin style so cookware could be set over the top.

Francis, meanwhile, was still trying to figure out what he had just witnessed when Arthur cleared the fire pit. Yao started to prattle to him about Arthur boiling the water for tea without fire and making a scab heal itself.

"I'll light it whenever you're ready," Arthur said. A little green flame licked his finger.

Francis snapped out of his awe and stuttered. "I suppose you could light it now. The sun will be setting soon. We'll want to be well-rested if we're going to do this again tomorrow."

Arthur let the flame roll off his hand onto the wood in a fluid motion. Upon contact with the wood, it grew and changed to a dark orange, content to slowly devour the logs. The mercenaries took their places on four of the five rocks around the fire. Arthur removed his outer vest and rolled up his sleeves and legs of his pants.

Francis and Yao set to work with the variety of foods he'd brought with. For cooks such as them, proper cookware was a necessity just like a proper shelter when trekking through unknown wilds. Yao had been especially prepared. From his belongings he produced a deep, metal cooking bowl and several ladles and long spoons. Francis brought out a cherished, handled pot, some small sauce pans, and his own smaller spoons. He also undid his vest and tied an apron around his waist.

From thence the food was prepared. The fresh chicken was cut into strips and placed softly over the fire. The two cooks sedulously added salt, pepper, thyme, cumin and other spices that seemed to appear miraculously in their hands. Yao requested that Arthur command the flames to be bigger, and he obliged so the shorter cook could boil rice and add it to the art in the big pot. Francis then brought out a cutting board and chopped peppers and tomatoes from Piamenta. The flavors combining in the pot attracted Arthur's interest.

"How can you two make this with no recipe in hand?" He asked.

"A true chef does not use a recipe. He follows his heart," Francis said as he blew a kiss to the developing culinary masterpiece.

"I just know how to combine flavors so they will match well and leave a man feeling satisfied with himself," Yao said.

"I could not cook like that," Ivan said. "When I was growing up, my big sister would cook for me. She was very good at it. And now I just have little servants do all my cooking. There is one servant I quite like. He is little water demon called Raivis. I find him cute."

"You have servants?" Arthur asked, a bit shocked at Ivan's rugged appearance. He didn't look like the type of man who would have servants, but then again, he wasn't a man.

"Yes," the demon grinned. "I am king of snow demons. Did you not know?"

"You never told us that!" The fairy exclaimed. He tried to contain himself and cleared his throat.

"Why do you dress like that if you are a king?" Yao asked. Clearly, it was the question on everyone's mind. Ivan had worn his plain, brown coat since he'd arrived, even when the sun beat down harshly. And wrapped around his neck was the same tattered scarf.

"You are making me embarrassed!" Ivan chortled. "These are very comfortable to wear. The scarf is from my big sister, and my coat is magic so I can stay cold while sun is out."

"I think I've heard of a spell like that," said Arthur, "Do you have fairies where you live?"

"Snow demon magic will make anything cold. I have not seen very many fairies in my life. That is why I was surprised to see you. You are interesting little creatures."

"Thank you...?"

When the food was ready, the two cooks piled chicken, rice and fried peppers onto plates, (also mysteriously materializing,) and served them to the other two.

The food proved to be fantastic. Arthur was not sure exactly how the two cooks were able to create such juicy meat from a wood fire, but clearly they had a somewhat magical talent. The chicken was coated in the savory spices to complement its natural flair. Diced tomatoes flourished over the top of the meat. The peppers were singed just enough to bring a light, flaky crunch to their skins. The heat had made them brighter in color and marvelously tender. The rice was perfectly moist and gave the broth a wonderful texture.

Arthur was experimenting with combining different flavors on his plate in his mouth when he heard the distinct sound of a twig cracking in the forest behind him. "Did anyone else hear that?" He asked.

"What?" Francis said. His face twisted in confusion.

"I thought I heard someone in the forest. It was a twig cracking."

"It was probably a twig snapping in the fire."

"Probably," Arthur said, though he was sure the noise came from behind him.

"If you need us to cook anything else, we'll be on it," Yao remarked once everyone was finished. A good few helpings of the meal still sat in the pot.

"Yao, I did not realize just _how_ well you knew your cooking. You are _magnifique._ I was thinking of making strawberry crêpes for breakfast tomorrow, if you'd like to assist me," Francis said with a laugh.

"Oh, yes, I would love that," Yao said.

"I'll light the fire for you," Arthur said.

"Splendid, my dear Arthur. And Ivan, you can bring us more wood."

"I will do that," Ivan agreed.

Arthur suddenly raked his fingers through his hair quickly and glared at the demon.

"What?" Ivan asked.

"Apologies, Ivan, but if you would kindly not touch me, that would be wonderful."

"I did not touch you."

"Someone did. I felt for sure that someone was messing with my hair. Dumped sand in it or something." He brushed his hair forward, and sure enough, gritty sand particles tumbled down into his hand.

The darkness of nighttime encroached the group as the last of the stars showed themselves. The fire cast flickering shadows behind each man, and friendly orange light danced across their faces. Yao held out his hands to the blaze to warm them while Ivan withdrew his enormous hands into his coat to keep them chilled. Francis began yawning and speaking of going inside the cabin.

"Go ahead. You cooked well. You earned rest," Yao said.

"The food was excellent," Arthur remarked. "The one good thing that came out of Amotoile."

Francis frowned at the joke, but Yao and Ivan found it quite funny. Though they hid their sniggering, they couldn't hide the creases around their eyes from amusement.

Something hard hit Arthur on the head then. He whipped around to find a sharp stone lying on the ground behind him. He held it up and showed it to the others. "Who is doing this?" He demanded. "Sand may be a funny little practical joke, but _who_ in all the blazes of the revelry under the hill has the nerve to throw this and hit me in the head!?"

Someone tittered in the darkness. This time, the others heard it, too.

"I do not think we are alone," Francis said worriedly.

"I don't care if it's the bloody _dog-man_ that threw this. Whoever it is, come forward. Come clean. And you'd better have a good explanation for why you target _me._ Oh, good Titania, am I bleeding from the temples? Did this pierce me?"

Unfortunately, in his frantic accusations, Arthur did not look in the direction of where the stone had come from — _behind him,_ where silently, a figure jumped down from a high tree branch and loomed behind the fairy as a great, menacing shadow. Arthur felt the lightest tap on his shoulder. When he turned, he saw only a dark silhouette with a stone raised high in one hand and a maniacal grin.

Arthur turned whiter than milk, and scared witless by the suddenness of the stranger's arrival and apparent wickedness, he let out a piercing scream that made nesting birds scatter and Francis clap his hands over his poor ears.

Arthur breathed heavily. His heart pounded even stronger than it had after his nightmare. He clutched his chest and looked at the ground with his vision blurring. Or was one supposed to look up when dizzy? He couldn't remember. A dreadful noise was blaring in the distance. Why was it so close, then?

"You, you shoulda seen the look! The look on your face! Priceless! So priceless! If I did that on campus, they would've dragged me kicking and screamin' to the office again! Oh! Oh, my freaking _stars_ that was funny!" The figure kept wheezing things like this in and around his painfully loud laughter. "Are you okay? Oh, I didn't mean to scare you! Well, I mean, I totally did, but are you okay? Seriously, I'm sorry! I'm not, but I am!" He continued laughing until he was clutching at aching sides and he laughed silently with tears streaming down his face.

He took a seat on the fifth rock and tried to retain his breathing. Arthur sat in shock. The other three didn't even know what to make of the situation. The arrival was not menacing-looking in the least. In fact, he was a kid — definitely younger than all of them, but not a child. Despite a charming smile, he was quite dorky and round-faced. One might've mistook him for chubby without seeing his athletic physique.

The spritely young man slapped his knee and let out one last wild kahoot of laughter before wiping his tears with his hand. He hunched down and put his hands on his knees. When no one said anything, he volunteered. "You guys _are_ the ones, right? The ones requested in the letter? Oh, I guess I forgot." He quickly went and retrieved a single satchel from just within the woods. From it, he pulled a fifth swallow seal letter. He opened it and showed it to Francis, who snatched it out of the boy's hand. The letter contained the same message, the same messy writing, and the same smudged name.

"I don't know what happened. You all must have come before or after me. I was in town, but I couldn't find anyone meeting. Why didn't you wait?" He furrowed his brow at the knight.

"W-we never received a fourth letter from anywhere saying you were coming," Francis said. "Did you send one to Amotoile? Where are you from? Your accent is rather unfamiliar."

"Name's Alfred, and I'm from the northernmost state of Scintillatia," the boy smiled brightly.

"Scintillatia!? That's across the damn bloody sea!" Arthur barked.

"'Tis," Alfred chimed, "A beautiful part of the world. Lots of space, wide open skies, and the people are a lot friendlier than here in this dump. I went into town the other day, and they thought I was a rotten changeling. Do you really live here?"

"I am from Amotoile, yes," Francis said rather crossly. But he wasn't one to judge on first impressions, so he allowed the boy to keep speaking.

"I'm actually a student. North Star Academy for Gifted Fairies. Ever heard of it? I usually get straight As. Probably why they decided to send me here — to challenge me. I'm good friends with the Dean of Magic. He lets me live with him while I'm attending school."

"You're… a fairy," Arthur said slowly. Now that Alfred mentioned it, Arthur could make out sharply pointed ears under the boy's sun-kissed hair. A strange, giddy sensation overtook him. Another wingless fairy joining the Mercs? Perhaps his punishment would be a little less lonely if he could relate to someone. "You're the sea-salt fairy, aren't you? The one the townsfolk mistook for a changeling!"

"Mm?"

"He does have a faint scent of sea-salt," Ivan said. "Oh, yes, this is the fairy I smelled this morning."

Alfred looked at Ivan, amazed. "You're a demon, aren't you?"

"A snow demon, yes."

"Got an earth demon who works as our housekeeper back at the Dean's mansion. His name's Tolys, and he makes the most mouthwatering bars! It's a darn shame, though. He told me the snow demons took over his land a while ago, so he had to come and make a living somewhere warmer."

"Ah, I remember seizing earth demon lands," Ivan said, as if there was no wrong in the story.

Alfred shivered and gave a slight, disgusted look toward the demon, but he quickly forgot about it when he saw the pot of leftovers. "Can I have that, please?" He asked to no one in particular.

"Of course," Francis replied. He took another plate and was about to scoop some when Alfred spoke again.

"Don't bother with plates. Just gimme the whole thing. I watched you guys earlier. You're all full, right? I'll finish it off for you. I've been traveling a lot, 'n I had to find you after I found out you left without me." He piled food in his mouth and kept speaking like it was empty. "I don't know why you didn't get a letter back. Maybe the pigeon got lost. Y'know, pigeons and seabirds are kinna dumb. I'd say eagles are the best for delivering letters."

"Do you like the food?" Yao asked.

The boy swallowed. "It's delicious!" He exclaimed. He straightened his glasses and kept shoveling. Two helpings disappeared, then three, then four. Arthur grimaced and imagined the boy must have had a stomach the size of his head.

"We're glad to know you're not a changeling," Arthur said.

Alfred swallowed a particularly large mouthful. "Of course I'm not! Honestly, I was just asking where to find you, and they threw things at me and swore until I left town entirely. I didn't come back until this morning, and then I found out you'd left. I think the one word I could use to describe them is 'shitfaced'."

"They were drunk," Francis said. "I am Sir Francis Bonnefoy I of Amotoile, a knight. I was investigating that supposed changeling sighting before I joined the other volunteers."

" _Mercenaries,"_ Arthur coughed.

"We are _not_ mercenaries! The nerve of these two. Please excuse them. They think the only reason to help the writer is to claim the reward. They don't care about feelings or morals."

"Well, you can count me on your side, then, Francy! I'm helping the writer for the justice this baddy enemy needs to feel! The writer needed a hero, and he's got one! You're lookin' at 'im." Alfred laughed proudly and ran his fingers through his golden hair. A stray chunk stuck up from his part defiantly.

"It is Francis," Francis laughed nervously.

"And what's your name, sir?" Alfred asked Arthur.

"Arthur, _Lord_ Arthur Kirkland of the Isle of Rain. And just to let you know, your recent actions were _not_ tolerated, and I will refuse to work with you if you continue to pull stunts like that."

"Ah, dude, I'm sorry! I didn't know I would scare you so bad! I thought I gave you enough warnings. Sand in your hair and that kinna thing. I guess I'm pretty good at hiding in the shadows, huh?"

"Your flaw was that you thought it was _funny_ to perpetuate your shenanigans to the point of nearly scaring me to death! Can you imagine if I was old or frail? I may have died because of your recklessness."

"Pshh, I wouldn't do it to an old person," Alfred scoffed.

"Then why do it to me?"

"You're not old."

"How do you know?"

"You don't look old. You kinna talk like an old man, though."

Yao snickered quite loudly at that comment, as Arthur was younger than him.

"And what are your names? You never told me," Alfred asked.

"I am Yao," Yao said. "Just Yao."

"And you may call me Ivan," said the demon.

"You all can call me Alfred, Alpha, Al, Starboss, or something like that. My brother calls me Alfie sometimes. And the guys at the Academy call me Buckwheat and Eagle Eyes."

"I will just call you 'Alfred,'" Arthur said. "It's certainly the most formal out of those. And what is your surname? I don't believe you gave one earlier."

"Sur-name?"

"Your House? Your family name? Surely a fairy going to a school like that must come from a discriminating family."

"A family name? I don't have one myself, but I live with the Jonses. Dean Jones. The Dean of Magic."

"You're an orphan?" Francis said, clutching his chest.

"'Fraid so, but it doesn't bother me much. I've been living with the Joneses for so long now. The dean and his wife and children and Tolys are like my family. So if you'd like, call me Alfred Jones."

The frivolous "Alfred Jones," as it turned out, was not tired. He talked for great lengths about the Academy and how he had come to be quite popular among students. The dean commended him in the hallways and gave him friendly pats on the shoulder. In class, he would raise his hand and give not only the answer, but why it was the answer and other information. To Arthur, all this seemed like wild, stretched fabrication.

Then he talked about his homeland of northern Scintillatia. It sounded like a peaceful place, full of eagles and herons and loons. And there were endless forests that stretched for hundreds of miles up into the Northern Wilds. Alfred said he had been to the Northern Wilds, to which Francis replied he had once been a trader in the villages there before becoming a knight. Alfred seemed to show a great amount of surprise to this, though he said it was because he had heard of how great and kind the traders in the region were.

Ivan was the first to retire. He claimed that the fire was proving too hot and offered to put it out before Arthur said he would later. Yao and Francis agreed that now was the time for sleeping, though Arthur still had questions for the fifth member of the Mercs.

"S'pose we should go to bed too, huh?" Alfred said amicably when they were alone. "Supper was great. I'm going to like hanging around with those guys if they keep making food like that."

"Alfred, what's your favorite magical subject to study?" Arthur asked.

"Hm? Oh, shooting awesome energy beams."

"Really? Perhaps tomorrow you could demonstrate."

"I dunno. There's one I've been working on, but it's not polished."

"You're all talk, Alfred. What's your real drive? What's something you're good at?"

Alfred sat still for a moment. "I told you, there are a lot of things I'm good at! And I _can_ shoot a beam. I wouldn't be an ace student for nothing, but I suppose… Oh yeah! Illusions are my best subject. Making people see things they aren't really seeing. The art of deception."

"Illusions, really? Perhaps you could tell me some secrets. I'm a magician, and I'm terrible when trying to hide my ears in human lands, though I do dislike to admit it."

Alfred's eyes brightened. "Once, as a prank, I made Tolys think there was a spot he hadn't swept, and when he swept it, I made him think a different spot hadn't been swept. It was funny for about fifteen minutes before he caught me and told me to go study. I told him I _was_ studying, and he just smiled and gave me the broom to finish the sweeping myself. Funny man, that Tolys. He said that he once had a liking for the demon king's sister."

"That Dean must be a wonderful man for letting you board with him."

"He sure is. I'd been staying with a family down in the Bluffs, and when I got accepted at the Academy, the dean saw how talented I was and let me right in. His wife even knit a cap for me. I think I brought it with." Alfred dug around in his satchel and found a sky-blue beanie, almost the same color as his eyes. "I like to pack lightly. I'm a bit of an outdoorsman. My brother and I both are, though that's no surprise with where we're from. He's staying with a family way up north. I told him to at least apply for the Academy, but he's just no good with magic. Never has been. He'd rather shoot a bow and learn how to skin a beaver than learn spells. But I mean, come on! Who doesn't wanna learn magic!?"

"Not everyone has the talent or the interest. I'm not sure whether to despise you for frightening me or respect you for knowing about my lacking talent."

"You probably want to respect me," Alfred smiled. Arthur flashed a half smile back.

Silly and frivolous and conceited. They were a new combination of traits in the group. Whether Alfred would be useful in speeding up the process of preventing the dark wizard from getting the amulet, Arthur had yet to see. Truthfully, he was more interested in Alfred than not. His ability to speak with great enthusiasm about many things was intriguing, but also concerning.

Those stories about being popular among students at the Academy were obviously a little exaggerated. Arthur pushed those thoughts aside. Alfred was trying to puff up his feathers and appear bigger than he really was. He was young and proud like Arthur had been in University. Naturally, there had to be some legroom for exaggeration. Alfred was in no danger of revealing that he was a bad student as the Academy was across the sea. And Arthur didn't doubt that Alfred was talented. His eyes had the glittering, star-like sheen of an adept.

Still, Arthur had to make absolutely sure that Alfred was one to be trusted. With the others, it was simple. Yao's childlike interest and Francis' fear made them obviously mundane and clueless about magic. Ivan, no doubt, could be trusted as a true demon. Alfred, however, was a wingless fairy. Either he could be an ally, or truly be a changeling trying to deceive them. The fear was justifiable, was it not?

A quick look in his satchel wouldn't hurt.

"I'm ready to retire, Alfred," Arthur said. "I'm not sure how the day was for you, but for the rest of us, it was full of strenuous walking."

"You must not be in very good shape if you just walked on that trail over there. It's so flat, you could pour maple syrup on it."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at the younger. "Well, I'd like to see you try and leave us in the dust," he said.

"You can't be too slow. If the enemy's brother is making that fairy walk, he'd have to drag his wings behind them, and I know for a fact that those things are heavier than they look. If we travel faster than them, we'll catch up in no time. I'll even carry Shorty on my back for a bit."

"Yao?"

"Is that his name? That's a funny one. And what about you? You're Artie."

"Actually, my brothers call me Artie, and I'm not necessarily on good terms with them, so if you'd kindly refrain from calling me that, I would be most grateful."

"Yep. You talk like an old man," Alfred laughed as he took his satchel and went inside the cabin. "Say _gonna_ once in awhile. I dare you."

Realizing that Alfred taking the cabin would leave no beds left for Arthur, he slyly offered to allow his blankets for the new arrival to use. Arthur said that the previous night, he'd had no bed to sleep in, so rotating who had what would be fair. Alfred kindly obliged and crafted for himself an even better nest than Arthur had. It was round with steep sides like a bird's, and he curled up in the center of it. Arthur doubted that he could be comfortable sleeping in that.

Then, when he was absolutely sure everyone was asleep, Arthur crept out of bed and took Alfred's satchel. The moon shone through the cracks in the cabin's roof to give light. The contents of the bag were slim. Besides the knit cap, there was a little badge of the Academy's coat of arms, a pair of leather gloves, the swallow seal letter and Amotoile's letter, two pocket mirrors, another unopened letter with a seal of the Academy's coat of arms, and a large book which took up most of the space. Arthur took out the book and began flipping. The pages were blank and reserved for drawings and notes. Some were filled with basic sketches of eagles and hawks. The more peculiar ones were vastly detailed technical drawings analyzing things like how an eagle's tail moved for different wind directions and how sharp the hook on its beak was. _An avid birdwatcher,_ Arthur thought, _perhaps he hopes to see new species here to add to this collection._

Arthur soon became bored with the sketchbook and took out the unopened letter. He picked at the wax seal. It could be reapplied later by sticking it. His conscience raged with logic. If the letter was written by someone at the Academy, and it hadn't been opened by Alfred, whom was it for? Nothing was written on the outside. Could it be for the Mercs? And if so, as the cleverest of the Mercs, wasn't it his right to know what the letter said? Perhaps Alfred had forgotten to give it to them earlier. Oh, but what if it was not for the Mercs? It could be a letter specifically for Alfred that he had just forgotten to read. Or it could have been a letter Alfred was supposed to deliver to someone else, but his scatterbrained personality brought his attention elsewhere. Regardless, there was no one watching Arthur, so he picked at the seal and started peeling it off.

"Why are you looking through his things?" Came a sharp voice. Arthur looked to see Yao leaning over the bed above him.

"I, um — this fell out and I was trying to put it back in."

"Why did you take the bag back to the bed with you?"

"He set it over here."

"By your bed? Look, Arthur, I am fine with him as long as he does not boss me around. He seems like a good, trustworthy boy. Be a gentleman and give him privacy."

Arthur, pale pink in the moonlight, put the letter back in the bag and set it back near Alfred's nest. The boy had rolled over. Some of his hair shifted to reveal a long, silvery scar wrapping around the back of his neck.

Arthur had a good dream that night about forest creatures coming to visit him at the manor to keep him company. They even set up an impenetrable force field around the estate so the Council members and his brothers could not come in. One creature was a perky little mint-colored rabbit with feathered wings that hovered in the air and spoke with a squeaky voice. There were whinnying unicorns and tiny wyverns and broom-wielding brownies and pointy-eared pixies the size of his pinky. They sang so sweetly that Arthur felt the drip of tears. No one could ever sing that pretty in real life, not even Gareth. And most definitely not… _him._

He was so engrossed in his dream that he ignored Francis' saccharine wake-up call. Arthur wanted to have one of those pleasant mornings where he slept in and felt his blood rushing calmly through him.

He ended up missing breakfast.

Alfred ate all of his strawberry crêpes.


	11. The Dream-Eater

Finding those whom he could be kind to and having the willpower to accomplish it was a challenge for Kiku. With the memory of his life, he had also lost all memory of his interests while alive. He'd had to develop new ones as a spirit, and spirits naturally didn't find the things of the living to be interesting. The inhabitants of the spirit world overlapping the world of the living were far more fascinating and easier to relate to. It was already quite strange when Feliciano called him by the name of a flower.

At the moment, Kiku was trying to understand how the living valued decent clothing.

"It doesn't matter, Feliciano. As soon as we reach a town, we are getting you a good set of traveling clothes."

"But _why,_ Doggie?"

"Because you can't just wear a _toga_ around in the forest no matter what kind of creature you are. Look, it's dirty and frayed on the bottom and it's constantly slipping too far down on your chest. It's as if you're walking around with no clothes at all. That's not proper."

"But they don't make clothes for fairies in Amotoile. How will my wings fit in something like what you're wearing? It won't be comfortable."

"Sure it will. We'll just cut holes in it."

"That just sounds like a pain. Why can't we just get some nice fabric and I'll make a new toga?"

"I can only assume togas are _traditional_ in Allegria."

"Yes, they are!"

"So you shouldn't be wearing one anyway in this day and age!"

Along with this conversation, Kiku had heard other interesting things that day. On the trail, Feliciano occasionally complained that he had a rock in his sandal or that he saw a snake in the grass. Kiku did not entirely understand fear.

Then the fairy began complaining that he was hungry, and despite the fresh produce they had brought along, he begged the human (Doggie? Ludwig?) to return to the town so they could have something substantial to eat. Hunger was something else Kiku did not understand, though he retained some sort of instinct for it.

The human was experiencing something he had seen many of the living feel. It was a thing they called _frustration._ Where it came from or why it existed, he expected to never learn as a spirit. It was a powerful emotion. Sometimes it caused people to lock themselves up in their rooms and stew in solitude. For others, it caused a turmoil so great that they lashed out at those they loved. And for others, it made them leave their homes and not return for a very long time.

Ludwig was experiencing a subtle form of frustration. A source must have been the fairy's use of the nickname for him. Currently, the only thing it was making him do was contort his face into a scowl and huff his rebuttals to the fairy's complaints. He never said anything to Kiku. The spirit was nearly transparent in the bright sunlight anyway.

"If you had proper clothes," the human continued, "you wouldn't be constantly tripping over that thing. You could wear boots, and you wouldn't get rocks under your feet. It would make you run faster."

"More running? I already ran so far this morning. Do I really have to run more? I wasn't built for it. I was built for the air. Otherwise my wings wouldn't be quite so big." Feliciano lifted his wings and fluttered them in and out a few times. A sparkling substance spilled from them to leave a shiny glaze of dust on the trail.

The human just sighed. "I just don't want you to almost fall on your face because you're tripping on that when we do run. Trust me, it will be a lot more comfortable for you to wear something like this."

"I suppose I could," Feliciano said slowly and defeated, "I do think I need to wear something other than this. It _is_ only traditional."

They traveled along the trail just the same as the Mercs had. Feliciano occasionally took food out of the bag on Ludwig's back and munched on it happily. When he was happy, Kiku noticed that he had a bit more bounce in his step. The peculiar curl of hair on the side of his head bounced too. Sometimes he would bounce high enough that his wings popped up reflexively and he'd float in midair for a few seconds. It was not too long before Feliciano was doing this periodically, and eventually, his wings bore his weight a foot above the ground so his sore feet wouldn't have to.

In the early afternoon, they came upon the same cabin that the Mercs later settled in for the night. Feliciano did in fact see the cabin, and he cried out jubilantly when he found it contained soft, plush beds and thick wood for safety from the dangers of the night.

"It's so beautiful! We could stay here for the night and sleep in something comfortable for once!" He exclaimed.

Fortunately and unfortunately, Kiku immediately saw a flaw in Feliciano's wishes. A strange creature peeked around the back of the cabin. Its body was composed of black shadows that swayed between intangible mist and tangible cloth. The shape of its body was constantly changing, but it had two skinny arms with humanlike hands and a single round, white eye on a stalk emerging from the top of its head. A drooping snout protruded from its face.

"We cannot stay here with that dream-eater," he said. The suddenness of his voice startled the fairy, who had not heard him speak a word all day.

"Aww, why not, Kiku?"

"Yes, why isn't this a good place? What is this 'dream-eater'?" The human asked.

Kiku wondered why the two of them were looking at him so strangely. Could they not obviously see the creature? He stood still for a little bit before realizing. The creature was concealing itself from the living. Kiku could only see it because he was a fellow spirit.

"You cannot see him, can you?" Kiku said.

"See who? Who's watching?" Feliciano whipped around and try to see what the spirit could see, but it was all a useless endeavor. The creature remained invisible to the eyes of living folk.

"There is a spirit who lives here. A spirit who likes to deceive travelers and devour good dreams. It may look like a warm cabin with comfortable beds, but it is really all an illusion created by the spirit. You could sleep in the cabin and have the most restful and dream-filled sleep of your life, but when you leave the environs of the cabin, you will feel as if you have tossed and turned all night on a bed of sharp rocks with no memory of dreams. The spirit will eat them when you leave."

Feliciano looked at Kiku with an expression of horror. "That's not true, is it? I don't want to stay here if I'm going to feel terrible in the morning!"

"Is that really what you see, Kiku?" The human asked. His voice was threaded loosely with annoyance. His eyes narrowed, and Kiku realized that sleep was yet another vital key to a living man's happiness.

"Yes. The dream-eater is right over there behind the cabin. He is shy after being seen by another spirit. I do not wish to harm him. He is merely doing what he is meant to do. We must move on now."

Ludwig grunted in a way that said he wanted to forget the disappointing news as soon as possible. Immediately, he turned on his heel and continued walking down the trail. Feliciano, on the other hand, sighed and hung his head low. His wings drooped and he yelped as another pointy rock wedged itself in between his sole and the sandal. Kiku looked behind him. The dream-eater peered around the other side of the cabin and shrank back when making eye-contact with him. The image of the cabin faltered for a few seconds before solidifying.

"I really don't like sleeping on the ground," the fairy murmured softly so only Kiku could hear. "Do you think maybe you could make an illusion like that?"

"Burdened spirits do not have such powers. "Kiku replied. "And if I did, my illusion would be the same as the dream-eater's. As soon as you left, you would feel as if you slept on the ground."

"Do you have any powers at all?"

"I probably have some. I have just not learned what they are yet. It took me a long time to learn how to make myself visible to the living. It was only then when I could do good deeds."

"It's like a whole other secret world of magic that no one knows about!" The fairy chortled.

"The spirit world is a strange place. I can see many things that you cannot. There are legion peculiarities and incomprehensible creatures, and I have yet to understand them all. Some of them are entertained by my impossible quest and say I will never complete it. Others are more helpful and assist me. No two spirits are the same."

"Wow, and spirits like this are everywhere?"

"Everywhere," Kiku said. "There is one flying above our heads right now." He pointed to a creature that looked like a crane. Its feathers were bright yellow and spiny like a pineapple's skin. It had a long green beak and four spindly legs that swam through the air as it flew. A hat fashioned out of pond grass was perched on its head. "Ah, hello," Kiku said to it and waved.

The crane spirit stopped. Its legs whipped this way and that to keep it airborne. "Hello there, sir! What are you doing with the living? Trying to give 'em a good scare?" Its voice was chirpy and amiable.

"No, I am trying to fulfill the quest of ten thousand deeds."

The spirit let out a whoop of laughter that sounded like splashing. "Good luck with that one, my friend. I've never heard of anyone complete that one before. They always end up wanting to stay here with us. Have a good day." The legs began moving in unison again, and the crane swam away.

"What did it say? What did that one look like?" Feliciano asked.

Kiku explained what had transpired.

"I wish I could see something like that," the fairy said.

"There are very few that reveal themselves. Most prefer to stay hidden, so only other spirits can see them."

"How could I see you last night when you were invisible, then?"

"That was my flaw. I was being very indecisive, and I did not know whether I wanted to show myself to you or not. I was between the worlds, so you were partly able to see me before I made myself visible to you."

"Ah. Well, I feel a little better now about being with a spirit like you. You can tell us when something isn't right. I'd say warning us about the dream-eater was a good deed to cross off your list."

"It was," Kiku said. Then the strange feeling came upon him of something being lifted off his shoulders. He felt more weightless than usual. _One thousand,_ A tiny voice whispered.

"Really? One thousand already? I only have nine thousand deeds now!" Kiku exclaimed, but it was more in shock than in relief.

* * *

"Kinna sucks, doesn't it? You know, at the Academy, it worked like this. If you didn't get up, you'd miss your first class. If you were me, you'd really be in trouble because my first hour teacher punished tardy students by making vines grow around their wrists and ankles so they'd be late to their next class."

"This is not your bloody school! This is courtesy when you have companions! Did Francis tell you you could eat another man's food?" Arthur raged. His stomach protested loudly.

"He didn't say I couldn't." Alfred smiled brightly and patted Arthur on the shoulder.

"Did you know it was my food?"

"It wasn't anyone's food. You didn't want to eat it, so I did. It wasn't labeled as yours."

"And this is how they teach behavior in Scintillatia."

Alfred sighed and put his hands on his hips. "You snooze, you lose," He said haughtily. "We told you to get up, anyway, didn't we, Francy?"

"Indeed, we did, my dear Alfred. I remember it well. It was Arthur's choice to not rise with the sun."

"I was having a very good dream, if you must know. If you had known that, would you have waited and perhaps reserved those crêpes for me?"

Alfred ignored the question. "I had a pretty good dream too, actually. Best one I've had in a long time."

"What was it about?" Yao asked.

"Aw, just the good ol' days when my brother and I were kids. We used to play-fight for an extra slice of pie in the summer. 'Course, I always won when we did. He'd just whine about it and call me names and try to hit me, but I said it wasn't fair because the little fight was already over. That was the best pie ever. Actually, a lot of the stuff I got to eat as a kid was heavenly. There was this blueberry tart with lots of cream piled high on top and roast bear. Have you ever eaten roast bear? It's to die for."

"Ah, so you dreamed about food. How predictable," Arthur scoffed.

"What was your dream about?" Alfred asked innocently.

"It's none of your business," Arthur retorted.

Francis turned to the snow demon. "Do you know what he dreamed about?"

"Not the content. Only that part of his dream concerned some questionable past actions," Ivan said amicably.

"Woah! Right, I forgot you're a demon! So you can see what other people are hiding!" Alfred exclaimed.

"Right," Ivan said. He smiled at Alfred almost creepily. Alfred seemed to shrink and turned to look at the humans. "Did you guys have good dreams too?"

"I had one," Francis said, "I had taken care of a dragon attacking a village, and the king of Amotoile said my prize was any of the beautiful young women set before me. But I could not choose. They were all so beautiful. I would look at one lady, and another would smile and grow more beautiful right before my eyes."

"How could a pretty woman get more pretty?" Alfred asked.

"Ah, you are young and innocent, Alfred, but I can tell you they all grew more beautiful in different ways. Some grew in the front..." He was massaging his chest when Yao interrupted.

"You are all fools. My dream was much more mature. I was in my shop at home, and a dragon walked through the door and bought everything I had to sell," Yao said. "And he brought many cute pandas with him to share what he had bought. I served them my specialty tea and dumplings."

"The bed may have been a bit small for me, but I remember dreaming that… oh no, I can't tell you. It must be secret. It is good dream for myself," Ivan said. Arthur decided his smile was masking a good dream and not a questionable one.

Francis had just enough to make one small strawberry crêpe for Arthur, and he ate it halfheartedly while the rest watched. He was the first one to step out onto the trail when they had packed up their things for the day.

Immediately, something was odd.

Arthur's vision grew bleary. His eyes itched and burned with sleepiness. He gave a groan as every muscle in his back began to grow tight and knot up until it was sore inside and out. His shoulders and arms seized up and grew stiff. His legs felt raw with fresh scratches and bruises. Arthur's mind went blank. What was it they had just been discussing? Dreams, but what dreams? What was his dream about? He saw the image of a rabbit, but it quickly faded from his memory.

"What just happened?" He muttered softly. He looked around for the others. Francis stepped onto the trail after him. He watched as the human's face grew solemn and dark circles rapidly appeared under his eyes. He slouched down. His countenance showed pain as if his back and shoulders were also growing sore and stiff. Then he gave Arthur the same look of confusion.

It was repeated with the three others who walked on the trail. Out of the rest of them, it seemed Yao was the most affected. He complained aloud that his back was so sore, he could not walk anywhere. He sat on the ground and begged for someone to rub his knotted shoulders.

"I — what, how?" Arthur said under his breath. "I feel like I've had the worst sleep of my life."

"I feel the same," Francis yawned. "Why did we decide to sleep here? Those beds were horribly lumpy."

"Beds? I feel like I've slept on a mound of rocks," Arthur groaned.

"I will not walk because of this," Yao pouted.

"It was your idea to stay there," Arthur retorted. He pointed to the cabin, but it was no longer there. It had vanished.

"I'm not really sore, just super hungry," Alfred said.

"You just ate for two! How can you possibly be hungry?" Arthur snapped.

"I don't know. It just wasn't that filling."

"Perhaps it was not the most filling," Francis said, confusedly. "I-I really don't think it was my best work."

"Yes, I remember eating, but I can't remember the flavor," Arthur said. "How weird."

"Do you think it was magic, Arthur?" Ivan asked.

"The cabin's disappeared. I'd say it was some kind of powerful illusion if even you couldn't see through it, Ivan." He turned to Alfred. "You said you were talented with illusions. If this was your prank, I'll slay you."

"It wasn't me! Why would it be me?"

"We must keep going. Ludwig and Feliciano probably had a much better night then us. They'll be getting on their way, too," Francis said weakly. He walked onward, but his hands frequently traveled back behind his shoulders to massage the knots. His countenance was distraught, and he caught himself in fits of yawning when the bright morning sun hit his eyes.

Unbeknownst to them, the dream-eater was stretching its long arms to take scoopfuls of their dreams right out of their heads. It sucked them up greedily through its dark snout, and its shadowy eyelids crinkled with delight around the milky eye. When the travelers had completely disappeared into the greenery, it waved goodbye and wished them good luck with a shivery voice as cold and distant as the moon.

Alfred carried Yao on his shoulders like he told Arthur he would. The shorter human was so grateful that he shut himself up and didn't complain except when Alfred jostled him around in a fit of excitement. Yao was nearly thrown off when Alfred caught sight of a large, dark bird encircling the trees. Yao jabbed Alfred in the chest with his heel. The fairy gave a surprised, screechy yelp and apologized softly for his susceptibility to distraction, (after a callow string of curses.)

Still on the Mercs trod after the others. Still they caught no sight of them. Ivan assured them they were on the right track, and every now and then Arthur spotted a patch of fairy dust on the trail from where Feliciano flew, (though his back crackled like lightning and shot pain up through his shoulders when he bent down to inspect it.)

By midday, they finally reached a town, and Ivan told them that the fairy's scent was very strong. Surely he was here. Surely they could put the issue to rest and not run into any more illusory cabins. Surely the matter would settle itself and Arthur could finally go back to Kirkland Manor and forget about everything he'd been through in the span of three days.

Surely…


	12. Visions

When Feliciano woke in the middle of the night, a cat was standing on his back.

He did not realize it was a cat at first. He imputed the rough licking of his cheek to a passing wind grinding through the open window and turned over onto his side. The cat flopped down and padded over to his sleeping face. The moonlight softly painted his cheeks and made them glow like an innocent child's. He breathed in and out slowly. The blanket was the greatest comfort after sleeping on the ground. It was a wonderful sight to see a town after the fairy had started to acquiesce they would be spending the night in open air again.

The cat, eager to see that Feliciano was awake despite his closed eyes, brushed its face against his. His nose twitched when the white, puffy tail was brought across it. Feliciano grasped for his pillow in his shallow arousal, but he touched the plush fur, and the cat began mewing what sounded like a song.

Feliciano opened his eyes. That was a strange sound for a pillow to make. And he was certain that it didn't have fur. He saw the cat poke its amiable nose right between his eyes and meow a single note. He was startled by the creature's sudden appearance, but after realizing it was a cat, his dread turned to endearment.

"What are you doing in here, Kitty?" He asked. He sat up and stroked the cat on the head. For some reason, he thought the little creature looked somewhat like him. It hadn't yet shown any expression other than a closed eyes smile. It seemed to blush in the same way he did. Even stranger, a little curl of fur was sticking out from its white head just like his curl.

"You're so cute!" Feliciano squeaked. He lifted the cat up and set it on his lap. It meowed a melody before rubbing itself against Feliciano's chest and purring sweetly. The fairy giggled at the adorable sight. He always loved cats. Some days he compared himself to one. Back in Allegria, he always took long naps in the afternoon, and he loved hanging around good smells. It was a great thing to linger around the streets looking for a pretty girl like a cat might go looking for birds.

Then, something miraculous happened. Another cat jumped up on the bed to join the first one. He hadn't seen this one lurking at the foot of the bed. Its fur was a sleek coal gray, and it held itself with an air of prestige and authority. This cat, Feliciano decided, looked like Doggie. A Doggie-cat! Even the cat's eyes were a cold blue, and it regarded the cat that looked like him with subtle annoyance. Regardless, as soon as the Feli-cat saw the Doggie-cat, it scampered right up to it and rubbed against it before introducing it to the fairy.

Feliciano reached out to pet the Doggie-cat. At first, it batted his hand away with his paw. He coaxed it silently with his smile, and it allowed him to pet it between the ears.

"Where are you coming from? You can't have gotten in through the door. The window maybe?" Feliciano glanced toward the open window. It was a first story room. He supposed a cat might be able to get in that way. Why would they want to come in, though? It was a beautiful night. Could Feliciano's window be the only one open? Had the cats smelled food? He certainly didn't have any for them. All the food was with Doggie in the next room over.

He got out of bed and walked over to the window. To his utter wonder, more cats were gathered outside. The first one he saw was black and white with a stubby tail and a cute, chubby face. Its blank, brown eyes instantly reminded him of Kiku. This only exacerbated his confusion. Three cats had appeared that all resembled him and his friends. What other cats were there? One was rather sour-looking with a curl on the other side of its head. That was his big brother Lovino, and the white one sitting next to it looked oddly like Antonio. It even had his bull horns. Next to them was a ruddy-colored cat with bright lime eyes that looked like Roma Villa's best servant, Sebastian. Then, there was a black one that looked like Herr Edelstein and a brown-and-white one that looked like Lady Elizaveta, his ex-wife.

Feliciano marveled at the cats. With some effort, he stepped out of the window and began to pet them. They all started to meow simultaneously. Each had a voice similar to that of its look-alike. The fairy sat in the grass, and the cats vied for his attention. They rubbed their faces against his legs and meowed loudly so he would look at them. A strange euphoria spread through him like magic. Their fur seemed to grow softer until he was sure they were too soft to be real. They caused such a din that Feliciano was surprised no one else came to the window of the inn to see what was causing such a ruckus outside.

The Doggie-cat yowled for all the cats' attention, then. His voice was strong just like Doggie's. He turned to the Lovino-cat and meowed angrily. Lovino-cat stopped hissing at Antonio-cat and brought his voice to a low growl.

Doggie-cat said some more things, but Feliciano could not understand because he did not speak the language of cats. Then suddenly, the gray cat vanished. The fairy reeled back. All around him, the cats did the same. They faded into the air and ceased to be seen. All that was left was the one that looked like him. It pointed with its paw to the window as if to direct Feliciano back into the room. Feliciano obeyed, and the cat was suddenly on the bed in front of him. It sang another song and danced with the music of meowing. Then, it disappeared.

Feliciano lay awake in bed for an hour after trying to figure out exactly what he had seen. The cats were real, were they not? Could they be the spirits Kiku had talked about? They mustn't have been; Feliciano could touch them without his hand going through their forms. What were they, then? An illusion? A portent of happiness? Perhaps they were just a bunch of stray cats and his sleep-deprived mind had made them look like his friends. Whatever they were, Feliciano would save further contemplation for the morning. His mind reeled from exacerbating his lack of sleep.

* * *

Little did he know, Ludwig was experiencing the same problem in the next room. He was not seeing cats that sang and vanished. He was lying awake in deep thought.

It was a strange feeling to lie awake and night and breathe calmly with human lungs. Ludwig had decided to not tease his curse that night. He had purposefully chosen a room without a window so he was safe from the starlight. When none touched him, he did not transform. Such nights were few. Back in Piyo Fortress, Ludwig had tried and failed to keep the starlight off him, but something would usually break his tactic. He would put the blanket over his body, but he couldn't breathe. He tried to sleep under the bed, but starlight would creep under it too and graze his ankle. He would find the darkest place to hide, and discomfort would keep him up.

Here in the inn, Ludwig was in complete darkness, and he slept in a bed. This bed was very comfortable. It was draped with a cool, heavy quilt, and the mattress wasn't lumpy a bit. The only thing that could possibly keep him up were his thoughts. He hadn't slept as a human in so long that he strained to remember those few times when he did. Sessions of thinking like these usually brought him to the origin of all the madness: the very night he'd been cursed. The images played in his mind like rushing water one after the other. Sometimes, he wondered if the memory of the night was a part of the curse. It was so crisp and clear. Each part passed with dauntless authority.

A fourteen-year-old Ludwig was lost in the wilds of Volkerburg after coming back from the library, though he was sure he should've recognized this part of the woods. It was late at night, and the moon was concealed by the most menacing of clouds. Ludwig thought it might rain soon, so he quickened his pace through the brambles and tried to remember which way Piyo Fortress was. He could usually count on the moon to guide him as it rose in the east. Following it would surely lead to the tower. He was also warned to stay away from the towers of Basch's castle. No one ever returned after passing into that land. Rumor had it the wizard placed curses on them so they slowly fell asleep trying to escape his clutches. Some got lucky and escaped only with dreadful curses. Ludwig knew Gilbert could do much worse than Basch, but his brother still told him to take heed when crossing through the woods alone.

But because the moon was nowhere to be seen, and rain was nigh, and Ludwig had strayed from the path in the darkness, and he was sure this wasn't on his usual route, he soon found that Basch's castle was strangely near to him. He could see the towers stretching into the night. Owls perched on the turrets, and bats hung down below. It was not an ugly castle. It was rather stately. Little decorative statues of chickens and peacocks guarded the front steps. The huge, arching doors were dark.

Ludwig sneaked through the brambles to move away from the castle. _"He can sense you if you're near,"_ Gilbert once said. _"Go away as fast as you can, and he probably won't bother you. If he does, come straight to me."_ He had to heed the words of his brother. Gilbert knew magic inside and out. He'd done it right before Ludwig's eyes. Gilbert's magic allowed him to change his shape and become whatever he gazed upon. When Ludwig asked what kind of magic he had, Gilbert had just smirked. _"I'll teach you when you're older,"_ he'd said. Now, of course, Ludwig knew that he wasn't the sort of creature who had magic. He wasn't a fairy, and Gilbert didn't have the knowledge to teach him with a wand.

Ludwig's shirt caught on a thorny branch. He cursed softly and reached back to untangle himself. A cold hand caught his wrist.

"I thought the rumors were enough to keep kids like you out," a steely voice remarked.

Slowly, Ludwig turned his gaze back to see the most glaring pair of eyes he could have ever imagined. They stared at him like green pools reflected in the light of the sun. A scowl that looked permanent was plastered under them.

Smarter than to argue with the wizard, Ludwig kept staring. Perhaps Basch would let him go. He had to have some sympathy in him. After all, he'd saved the witch Lili and allowed her to live with him.

"Stop staring. Do you want to leave or not?" The wizard said coldly.

"Yes, great wizard," Ludwig croaked.

The wizard untangled his shirt from the thorns. He pointed to a silvery veil that was almost invisible in the distance. "Do you see that over there, Ludwig? It's a barrier to keep fairies of darkness like your freeloading brother out so they don't come anywhere near Lili and me. They'd be stupid if they even tried. Now, I'm going to count to ten, and then I'm going to come after you. I always give the young ones a head start. If you get past the barrier, you're safe. If my magic touches you, you're cursed. Serves you right for trespassing." He raised a staff topped with a green stone that glittered in the darkness. Green mist swirled around it, and his eyes sparkled deviously with power.

The wizard closed his terrible eyes and began counting. As soon as he heard the first number, Ludwig dashed through the brambles. The thorns cut into his legs and logs scraped his knees, but he kept running. The veil twinkled, and Ludwig tried his hardest not to trip and fall on any roots that stuck out under his feet.

Basch finished counting as quickly as he began. With a single bright blast of green light from his staff, he hit Ludwig in the shoulder. He hadn't even needed to move to aim perfectly.

The eerie glow kept Ludwig in place. He couldn't move nor even blink. The light sat on his shoulder to wait for a command from its master. It was hot, and little crackles of electricity licked his skin.

Basch walked briskly to the boy's location. "It seems you're cursed. How fun."

Ludwig panicked. He strained every muscle in his body to move anything, but Basch's magic paralyzed him. He cried out, but his mouth would not form words. His voice was a terrified whine.

"You sound like a wild dog," Basch said. "All right then, that's what I'll make you. Consider yourself lucky. I would do worse, but your brother's been keeping some certain annoying people busy, so they haven't been bothering me lately. The barrier will keep Gilbert out."

The wizard raised his staff. The entirety of the stick swirled with green light brighter than the sun. Everyone in Volkerburg could see that Basch had caught another trespasser. Ludwig squeezed his eyes shut. He expected pain, and it came in the form of his body swelling and twisting around him. Finally he was allowed to move, and he scratched furiously when fur began to grow. He screamed, his voice sounding more and more dog-like with every painful wave of transformation. His hands and feet grew into paws. His ears changed from round to pointy and furry. His legs and spine let out terrible _cracks_ as they lengthened.

He looked at himself horrified after the changes subsided. What remained of his clothes were tight across his body and torn from his size. He shouted curse after curse at Basch, but his deep voice scared him even more. His heart pounded in his chest, his body still seared with lasting pain, and he felt a sudden, inhuman drive of instinct that made him want to rip the wizard apart limb from limb.

"If I catch you trespassing in my yard again, you're dead," Basch said. A whirlwind came from the tip of his staff. Ludwig's body was bathed in green light, and he found himself in front of Piyo Fortress.

He scratched at the door with his long claws and cried out Gilbert's name. The fairy instantly appeared in the doorway. He looked like he'd been worrying himself into deep stress about his little brother's whereabouts. Ludwig was now as tall as him, and he looked into Gilbert's comforting red eyes with tear-streaked blue ones. "Basch cursed me!" He cried.

"Basch? Wizard Basch? Ludwig!? You trespassed!? What the hell did he do to you!?" Gilbert stood in shock.

"I got lost," Ludwig said. He stumbled into the tower, falling and landing completely paralyzed out of shock and strain.

"Ludwig, is that really you?" Gilbert said, dumbstruck.

 _"Er ist ein Schmetterdämon._ The dark wizard Gilbert is a changeling," Ludwig whispered. Gilbert then knew it was his brother who lay before him so warped and distorted. He retrieved a blanket from Ludwig's room and threw it around his brother for comfort. He then sat with him and whispered words of solace until late into the night when Ludwig, tired from fear and instinct, fell asleep.

* * *

"They weren't spirits! They weren't! They weren't! I touched them and my hand felt them! They had really soft fur and they rubbed against me!" Feliciano exclaimed at a late breakfast the next day.

"Then I cannot help you," Kiku said. "Puzzling. Do you think they were fairies like yourself who disguised themselves as cats?"

"Well, phookas can sometimes turn into animals, but Antonio is the only one I know, and he can't transform completely."

"A changeling, then? They can shapeshift too, if I am not mistaken."

Feliciano shivered. "Changelings are evil, though! They wouldn't rub up against me. And why would they all look like my friends?"

"Perhaps a logical answer is that they studied your friends in order to learn more about you. And last night, they became cats that looked like your friends in order to deceive you so they could learn your weaknesses."

"No!" Feliciano shrieked. "They're not going to take me away! No one knows what happens to the people who get taken away! I hear rumors that the other changelings eat them or feed them to creatures who will eat them! And I don't taste good! I'd probably taste really garlicky! No one likes a fairy who tastes garlicky! And I haven't got much meat on me at all!"

"That's enough!" Ludwig shouted. "Changelings do not eat the people they take, Feliciano!"

"They don't?"

"No! They don't eat the flesh of fairies. Now stop worrying about it. You had a wacky dream. That's all. That's the end of it. And you," he said, turning to Kiku, "don't put ideas in his head."

"I was merely trying to—"

"It was a dream, Kiku."

"I don't think it was a dream," Feliciano said meekly.

"Believe what you will, but the matter is settled," Ludwig said. They finished their breakfast in silence.

* * *

"I say we eat first," Alfred said cheerfully. "You can't fight a dog-man with no fuel in your system."

 _"You_ can't," Arthur said, "but I'm willing to bet the rest of us can."

"Hey, don't be hard on yourself. You didn't get to eat much this morning."

"And whose fault was that?"

"Yours. You didn't get up."

"I think lunch would be a good idea," Yao said. "If they leave again, we won't have to chase them so far."

"I agree," said Francis. "However, I do believe we should try to remain discreet. It is like we discussed. We should not draw attention to ourselves, especially when Feliciano has seen me before."

"Should we split up, then?" Alfred asked.

"I'm not sure about that. We wouldn't want to waste any time getting back to each other if one of us finds the two in question. Maybe if we just stay in two groups, that would be good. And when one group finds them, they should try and coax the fairy toward the center of town, like we are now," Arthur said.

"That might make the townsfolk suspicious," Yao said.

"We're already making them suspicious," Arthur said. "People of Amotoile rarely see fairies, and the frequency of demons must also be quite low. We can use that clock tower up there. Let's split up into two groups and look, eat, and meet our other interests. We'll meet back here in two hours whether we've found them or not."

Much to his pride's building, Yao stepped over to form a group with Arthur. Alfred, much to Arthur's annoyance, joined them.

"Both of you will be in a group?" Francis asked, "have you got a pair of scissors with you just in case you need to prove yourselves?"

"I've got some," Arthur said. He tugged on his capelet to make sure it was completely over his ears. Alfred had nothing of the sort, but his hair sufficed to cover the sharp points.

"All right, then, Ivan and I will search this part of town, and you three search that part."

"Oh, we're not doing any searching until we've eaten," Alfred said.

Arthur acquiesced for the moment. He _was_ peckish. That tiny crêpe hadn't been much to sustain him, especially after the illusion had worn off and all memory of the flavor had been wiped from his mind. Alfred led the way. Their choice of a place to eat was also chosen impulsively by Alfred when he spotted someone who appeared to be an old friend sitting at the bar. Arthur and Yao had no choice but to follow and see what could transpire between them.

"Now that can't be the famous Mathias Seakiller, can it?" Alfred shouted. His voice carried over those gathered in the tavern already.

The hulking man in the black coat at the bar turned to look at him. His eyes were a shade of blue reminiscent of melting ice. He grinned from ear to ear when he saw the young fairy. He threw back his head and finished his glass of beer in one massive gulp before slamming it down on the bar. "That would be me!" He exclaimed. His voice was crisply accented, and it almost seemed a notch too high for someone of his stature. "Haven't seen you in a while, Alfred! How's that weather in Other Hejgrund dealing you?"

Alfred beckoned to the others and sat at the bar next to the apparent legend. "It's been rainy lately," he said.

"Rain where you live, too, huh? Well, that's not so bad. I smile whether it's raining or shining." Mathias raked a hand through his creamy hair. "And I bet you're putting up with the rain, too?"

"Sure am," Alfred smiled. "My friend Artie over here's from the Isle of Rain. It's always dark and stormy there. He told me all about it."

"You definitely deserve a drink and a heavy meal," Mathias said cheerfully. He waved his hand wildly to order more, and the bartender just rolled his eyes.

"Are you even old enough to drink, Alfred?" Arthur whispered.

"If a guy like Mathias asks if I want a drink, I take it," Alfred replied. "From one hero to another."

"Reckless westerner," Arthur muttered.

"Actually, I'm from Højrød. Little sea town in the Kingdom of Hejgrund. The _first_ Hejgrund, not Alfie's little hotdish haven."

"Agh, don't remind me of that stuff! I haven't eaten it in over a month!" Alfred whined.

"You might know about it yourself," Mathias continued. "We're quite close to the snow fairy lands. Yes, legends can come from anywhere. I'm sure you've heard of me. Not many around here seem to know my name. It's weird."

"He swam from the Isle of Fury all the way back to his homeland! That's what they say, anyway," Alfred blurted.

"That's not the coolest thing I did. I've also constructed an entire castle out of nothing but little wooden blocks! And I lived in it for a whole week! It was so big that I filled it with wooden furniture also made out of little blocks. Then, of course, you should know that I'm the captain on the _Bloodhorn._ That's my ship. If you don't recognize me it's probably because I don't have the beard right now. It'll be back, I swear! I just lost a little bet with a fellow sailor. So humiliating!"

"What kind of bet was it?" Alfred asked, eyes sparkling.

"Staring contest!"

"You shaved over a staring contest?" Yao asked.

"I was brave for even trying. It was Berwald the Stoic I was up against. I only took the challenge because if he won, he was going to make me a room full of new furniture. Not for my wooden block castle, for my real house. Such a shame that dragon had to burn up my old wooden wardrobe!"

"Oh yeah, didn't you say you needed some new cabinets for your axes?"

"I did, and they've got to be made of sturdy wood. Berwald the Stoic is the best craftsman for miles around. They say he has magic blood in him, but I'd be able to tell if he did. I think it's mostly rumors. He's got that look in his face like nothing in the world bothers him. He's a hard one to read, that Berwald."

"Doesn't he have a ship, too?"

"Yeah, but it's a lot smaller than mine!" Mathias cheered. "So hey, a bit late on the subject, but I see you're wearin' glasses now. They look good on you!"

"Aw, thanks!" Alfred said, "Is that necklace of yours new, too?"

"It's the same one you've seen before, although I added some new charms to it since last time. I think they make me look a lot sharper."

Arthur glanced over at Yao, and together they discussed whether they should move. Alfred's conversation with Mathias was causing the latter to grow louder and louder with each swig of beer. His accent flowed smoothly like a flute, but his voice was grating. He smelled of sweat, beer, sea-salt, and faintly of dried blood. And he wouldn't stop grinning like he was the happiest man in the world.

They eventually moved to a table that was quieter, though Mathias' presence took up half the room by itself. Alfred seemed to be enjoying time with his friend. Arthur looked amused at the few times when the young fairy would sip his own glass of beer and wince at the taste. Then he would scarf down food to try and combat it. Yao noted that the two of them looked so much like each other, not in appearance, but in the way they spoke to each other and shared enthusiasm over the different subjects that came up.

Alfred soon enough brought up the topic of birds. It was then when their voices grew hushed. Arthur had to strain to hear what they were saying, but for some reason Mathias had found a way to keep his voice at a whisper. They gave odd looks over at the two Mercs almost as if they wanted to be sure they couldn't hear the discussion. Regardless, they still spoke earnestly and with excitement.

Alfred didn't want to leave when it was time to meet the others in the square. He reluctantly shouted a farewell to Mathias and went off with the others. It turned out that Francis and Ivan still hadn't been able to locate Feliciano, though they had caught wind of a winged fairy staying at an inn on the other side of town along with a human and… something else.

"The smartest thing to do would be to follow them at a distance. That way, we don't startle them," Arthur said.

"Boring. We should just get in there and go!" Alfred said confidently. He had just come back from trying to rid his mouth of beer-taste by drenching his entire face in the fountain.

"We're not trying to antagonize them, Alfred. We need to get Feliciano by himself so that we can tell him not to deal with the dog-man and ask him who wrote the letter."

"Get him by himself, eh? Isolate him from the group?"

"That would be the best plan," Francis said, "although I tried it already and he just ran off out of fear of a false changeling sighting."

"Yes, make it a note that changelings frighten him, so we can't appear to be anything of the sort," Arthur said.

"We'll just be friendly campers, then!" Alfred said.

"It was one of the things we discussed when we first formed as a group. We need to figure out exactly what we are so we are inconspicuous," Arthur said. "Tourists would be an adequate alibi."

"And not mercenaries," Yao said with a wink.

"And I will not be king of demons," Ivan said.

"The news I heard is that the two, well for some reason now there are three of them, are going to begin moving again before sunset tonight, though they'll be taking the road instead of the trail. The road runs by the river, so there are little places perfect for campsites. I suspect they'll be setting up camp somewhere tonight."

"Cool, Francy. We can find them and think up a good battle plan. I'll be in charge of tactics. Each man will be assigned a position depending on skill set and level of experience. Now, of course, all the actual fighting will be my area of expertise—"

"Let's not be thinking of battle plans until we have someone to battle," Yao said.

"Isolating Feliciano will not involve battling anyone if we do it with care," Arthur said.

"Well, we'll have to battle the dog-man," Alfred said, putting his hands on his hips. "We'll need to battle him at some point, and I'm just saying that the best man for the job is me. I can fight like no other."

"What will I be doing?" Ivan asked.

Alfred beamed. "You, Ivan, have a very important job: being my backup."

"Quit being so conceited. We haven't seen you fight, so we can't necessarily take your word for it, can we? Why, we've only just met you last night. We still have many things to learn about you," Arthur said.

Alfred averted his gaze from anyone and looked onward to where the road met with the town limits. "Sure, sure. I was wondering if there was a place around here where we could buy things to roast over a fire. You know, marshmallows and such. Oh, and Francis and Yao, if you could work that cooking magic you did last night again, I'd love that. You two are brilliant."

At sunset, they trailed behind the smaller party onto the wooded road.


	13. In the Guise of Light

Alfred, unsurprisingly, was the first of the Mercs to poke his head up out of the bushes and stare down their opponents.

"I can't believe we found their camp," He whispered excitedly. His voice squeaked with anticipation.

"It wasn't that difficult, you dolt, we only had to follow them," Arthur whispered harshly.

"Let me see."

"Hush."

"Ow!"

"Sorry about that."

"Quiet down."

" _You_ quiet down."

"Make me."

"Hey, quit making so much noise back there, will you?" Alfred said quite loudly. "We've got to see who we're up against."

" _Whom,"_ Arthur corrected.

"Them," Alfred said, pointing.

"No, I was trying to correct you, oh, nevermind."

A small fire was blazing in a neat ring, and three men were around it. The first of them that Arthur saw when Alfred moved his elbow was the winged fairy. He was certainly an Allegrian with wings of that shape and sheen. Currently, he was stirring the contents of the pot hanging over the fire and babbling about pasta. He seemed to be a friendly one, though he must have been as innocent as they came.

Then his eyes moved to the dog-man. Arthur flinched. This was the one Alfred seemed to be the most interested in. It made his heart pound just thinking that the blond human he'd seen when they trailed the group had transformed into such a beast. That was the work of truly terrible and powerful magic. A fairy caught doing that sort of thing would receive at least the sentence and scrutiny Arthur had received. The Mercs had heard Feliciano's screams of horror when the transformation had taken place. Ivan was the only one strong enough to hold Alfred back from getting in on the intrigue. Ludwig was _huge._ Arthur believed the slightest breath from that creature could send him flying. The dog-man's biceps were as big around as his head.

"Who is it that joined them? I can't quite see," Francis whispered.

"I can't tell," Alfred replied, "I think he's… he's glowing, whatever he is."

"Glowing? A glowing man?" Arthur asked. He shoved past Alfred's elbow again to look.

"Whaddaya think?"

"I can't tell what he is, but if I had a guess, I'd say he's from the spirit realm. There's no other reason to explain why he glows like that. It's not a practical spell if it's magic."

"I wonder what twisted lies the dog-man told him to join them," Alfred growled. His hand clenched into a fist.

"Quiet," Arthur warned, for Feliciano had looked in their direction. Alfred hunched low and pushed the rest of them back into the bushes.

"I thought I heard someone back there," Feliciano said.

"I heard someone, too," Ludwig replied. Arthur flinched again at the creature's deep, distorted voice. His maw was full of gleaming teeth.

"Can you smell anyone back there?" The spirit asked.

The Mercs grew still at the question.

"Nothing that could harm us. It's just other campers."

Arthur's heart dropped like a stone. The dog-man could tell what they were without even seeing them. He let a long, hushed breath out. The dog-man couldn't know their intentions. Technically, they _were_ campers.

"Well, do they want to join us? We've got lots of food if you're hungry," the fairy remarked. He waved his arms and tried to beckon them out into the open. Alfred's stomach suddenly betrayed their location even more.

"Shall we retreat?" Yao asked.

"Let's not get too close," Arthur said. "I say we go back to our camp."

"Right, and I guarantee I can cook better than some horrid beast and a sprite who smothers everything in sauce. You can leave it to me tonight, Yao," Francis said.

They backed slowly out of the bushes and returned to their chosen campsite. Arthur created a small fire and Francis began cooking fresh ingredients. It seemed that Alfred instantly forgot about anything when it came to food. He paced anxiously around the area and continued checking in on how Francis was doing.

"Do they not feed you where you come from?" Arthur asked.

"Not enough," Alfred joked. "Besides, I haven't eaten since sunset."

"When did you eat at sunset?"

"I had some fruit with me that I picked up in town. It wasn't too satisfying. You don't get much out of fruit."

"I don't remember you getting any fruit when we were in town."

"You must've not seen me buying it."

"I saw you stealing some," Yao said.

"Stealing?" Alfred's face screwed up. "I didn't steal anything."

"Ivan, did Alfred steal?" Arthur asked.

"I hope this will not become my job with you," Ivan said nervously. "Some things are supposed to stay secrets."

"It's not something that he'd write in a diary, Ivan," Yao said, "did he steal anything or not? I saw him take that fruit and put in in his bag before putting some kind of spell on the merchant so she forgot about it."

"Okay then, yes, he is trying to hide that he did in fact steal," Ivan replied.

Arthur's jaw dropped. "Why?" He snapped at the younger fairy. His tone was stern like a disgruntled father's.

Alfred glared at the demon before replying. "I don't, I mean, I didn't have any money with, and I—"

"And you stole _food_ of all things?" Arthur snarled. Yao had to tell him to hush up so the other group couldn't hear.

"I have plenty of money, Alfred. You could have just asked me," Francis said as he turned over the fish in the pan.

"Immature," Yao muttered.

Ivan just looked from man to man like their annoyance amused him.

Each man, regardless of appetite, was given a single large fillet smothered in breadcrumbs and savory seasoning. Alfred attacked his plate and greedily wolfed his down in about five seconds. The other men just averted their gaze.

But Arthur noticed something that made his blood turn to ice. It was when Alfred was wiping his mouth on his sleeve when he licked his teeth for any extra flavor or residue. And just for a split second, Arthur thought he saw one of his canines extend into a little fang. He stared wide-eyed at Alfred, but when he asked why Arthur seemed so interested in smelling his breath, the fang had vanished. Arthur decided then that it must have been a trick of the firelight's flickering. These people were surely driving him mad.

It was their first time sleeping on the forest floor. The river nearby gurgled past them, and the road brought the occasional sound of hooves hitting the dirt. Arthur reduced the fire with a flick of his wrist. It shrank to the size of a lantern's flame within the smoldering logs. Francis rubbed his sore back as he reluctantly settled down into his blankets. He took care not to get his hair caught soiled in any sticks or dirt surrounding him. Yao chose to sleep on his stomach to save his own back the trouble. Ivan, though he had slept on the bed in the illusory cabin, found it much more comfortable out in the woods to sleep standing up. He could have scared anyone who walked past if he didn't see that the demon's eyes were closed. Thus, they appointed his sleeping form as their campsite scarecrow.

Arthur lay awake for what seemed like hours. His knotted left shoulder pulsed with dull pain. He couldn't get it to snap no matter how much he rolled his arm back. A freezing wind blew past and chilled his ears red. He formed a tiny green flame in his hands and held it close for any comfort it might give. The stars looked down on him coldly. They were like the disapproving eyes of the Council as they gave him his sentence.

"Are you still awake?" Alfred asked. His voice startled Arthur in the darkness.

"Yes. What do you want?"

"You wanna go and check on the others with me?"

"Is that really necessary? We know what they look like, and we're _not_ going to attack them. _Any_ of them. Honestly, Alfred, what is your obsession with this wild fantasy of fighting the dog-man?"

"He's affiliated with dark magic, duh. He's on the side of a dark wizard. If we can't convince the fairy he's a baddy, we'll have to fight him."

"I don't know how spying on him while they're asleep is going to help you form a better battle plan."

"We didn't get too close last time. I wanna see how big he really is. You donafta come if you don't want to," he yawned.

In the pale moonlight, Arthur saw Alfred slip out of his blankets and stand up to stretch. He then bent down to put some things back into his satchel that he'd been looking at. The unopened letter was among them. The seal looked as if it had been peeled off and restuck. Could the letter not be for Alfred, then?

"Do you like to draw, Alfred?" He asked casually. The sketchbook had been lying open on the blanket. It was fair to ask.

"Oh, you mean the stuff in here?" Alfred bit his lip. "I like sketching, yeah. Birds and things."

"Do you like birds?"

"Birds are the best," Alfred whispered. "Eagles especially. I bet an eagle can see for miles with those golden eyes. And they're so graceful. They get up there in the sky and just stop flapping. They glide on the wind with no effort. Must use some kind of magic to control the air."

"I hardly think it's magic," Arthur yawned. "Probably just the way their wings are shaped."

Alfred was not one to back down when faced with friendly conversation. The instant he had fit everything back into his satchel, he got up and promptly walked in the direction of the other camp. Arthur considered just letting him go and do whatever stupid idea came into his mind, but then he thought of Alfred stealing earlier. He was unfortunately prone to act on impulse. If he wanted so badly to fight the dog-man, he could end up provoking some unnecessary complications for everyone.

"Alfred, wait," Arthur whispered harshly. He got up out of his blankets and followed.

The two camps were not as close as they seemed. Getting to the other involved crossing the road, going down a narrow path with thorny bushes and creepers, and climbing over a maze of fallen logs. It was easy to see in the darkness. The fire had not yet died down and still illuminated the area in a friendly orange hue.

Alfred was crouched between the bushes to take in the scene. The fairy was fast asleep stretched out on his side with his wings folded down nicely. The dog-man was humorously curled up like he might have paced in circles first. His breathing was loud and carried with it the occasional grunt.

"There you are," Alfred said. He beckoned Arthur over to the scene. The fire reflecting on his glasses made it look as if his eyes were glowing.

"What is there to see?" Arthur asked sleepily. The fire's heat was making his eyes droop.

"Anything. Anything that will give us a clue as to how we deal with them."

"We can't spy on them when they're asleep. That will give us nothing. And I'll have you know, I came along to make sure you wouldn't attack them while they're asleep."

"Why would I do that? That's not fair."

"You said you wanted to attack Ludwig while he was changing."

"At least he was awake, and that's a pretty quick transformation from what I heard."

"You never saw him. Our only evidence was what we heard. Perhaps it's longer, and he just wasn't as in pain as the first throes."

Alfred didn't reply. He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the scene. He seemed still as a statue. Not even his feet moved to shift his weight.

"Wait, where is the spirit?" Arthur asked. "The fairy and dog-man are there, but where's the other one?"

"I am here."

Arthur turned around to come face to face with the spirit's blank expression. "May I ask why you are spying on us?"

Arthur froze in place with his hands up in front of him. "We, um, it was _his_ idea," he sputtered.

Alfred calmly rose with a confident countenance. Then, faster than Arthur could stop him, he thrust his palm to the spirit's forehead and commanded, " _S_ _leep."_ The spirit's eyes fluttered closed and he stood still and silent. He did not collapse, however, as no force from the living could knock him over.

"That was close," Alfred said with a smile. "We're lucky I know some fairy charms."

"Fairy charm? That was no ordinary fairy charm if I've ever seen one. If you could make an intangible _spirit_ sleep it'd have to be a bloody dark—"

There came a rustling as Feliciano stirred. He sat up and rubbed his bleary eyes. "Kiku?" He whined.

"Hide!" Arthur hissed. The two fairies ducked under the bushes again. "Don't make a sound. If he comes over here—"

Alfred elbowed Arthur in the stomach so hard he almost lost his footing.

They waited, and Feliciano curled back up in his blankets and shut his eyes.

"All right, let's go back to camp," Alfred whispered.

"We learned _nothing,"_ Arthur said.

"Well, I told you you didn't have to come along."

Arthur muttered something incomprehensible and turned to head back to camp. Alfred caught up to him a few seconds later after undoing his charm so Kiku was simply sleeping with no magical influence. The two crossed the road and found where Ivan stood guard. Arthur was frightened by the demon's sudden appearance, and Alfred snickered in the darkness the same way he'd done when he'd introduced himself.

Alfred was asleep faster than Arthur could've even imagined. He slept on his back limbs stretched about him, and his glasses were still perched on his nose like he had forgotten to remove them. He was surely only awake earlier to wait for the perfect time to go through with his idiotic idea of espionage. However, going with wasn't completely useless. That thing Arthur had seen Alfred do with the spirit… it wasn't taught in any school on the Isle of Rain. It was wild magic. _Dark_ magic. That was a dark charm he'd performed.

It wasn't out of the question that Alfred could know a dark charm. Arthur was not aware of the difference of rules between the Isle and Scintillatia. For all he knew, dark charms could be a valuable part of the Academy's curriculum. After all, Alfred had used it in self-defense, and it was useful in that fashion. Perhaps in Scintillatia, it was really only the most dangerous spells that were banned. Or maybe none were banned at all. He'd simply have to ask Alfred how he knew such a spell in the morning.

If he slept at all.

* * *

The next morning, Arthur woke before anyone else and packed up his things neatly. Yao lay curled up clutching his pillow, Alfred lay squeezing his pillow with his glasses askew, and Francis was only pretending to sleep, as his discomfort with the sleeping situation was the greatest of any.

"Get up, now, all of you!" He announced. "Up and ready, come on, we haven't got all day, you lot."

Francis muttered something that sounded like an insult, and Arthur teasingly bent down to hover over the human's face. "Oi, come on, Sir Francis, you want to look like the responsible one, don't you? Why don't you rise with the sun then and help us?"

"You're blocking out the sun with your swelled head," Francis groaned.

"Good morning, little ones!" Ivan said. His frosty breath down Arthur's neck almost froze him in place.

"Oh, good morning, Ivan," Arthur said weakly. "Care to help pack up? I assume the others will be moving on, and we'll have to follow them some more."

"Gladly," said Ivan, though his belongings were few. The demon had brought less than Alfred, and his favorite possession besides his scarf was a large silver flask full of Demon's Spirit that never emptied no matter how much he drank from it. Even now in the morning, he took a hearty swig that must have emptied half the flask, but as soon as he put the cap back on, there was a swishing, bubbling gurgle and it refilled up to the top.

 _If I could enchant a flask to refill with brandy… no, I couldn't. I'd probably just get drunk and arrested again,_ Arthur thought.

"Get up, why don't you, Alfred, we might be facing the dog-man," Arthur said sullenly as a means to only rouse the other fairy. Alfred only slept on. His chest rose and fell steadily.

"Isn't it too early to get up?" Yao complained. He rubbed his reddish eyes and let out a great yawn. "Why is Alfred sleeping with his glasses on?"

"He just fell asleep that way," Arthur said. "He dragged me all the way to the other camp in the middle of the night. Wanted to spy on the others while they were sleeping. We almost got caught by the spirit."

"He is so weird," Yao remarked.

"I must agree with you. He is proud, sure, but the rest of him is an enigma. Last night, he used what I'm certain was a dark sleeping charm. Such a spell would be intolerable on the Isle of Rain."

"He is not from the Isle," Francis yawned.

"I know, but it's still peculiar that he could work it so well like he'd done it countless times before. It's just one more thing revealed about him that's strange."

The image of Alfred's tooth lengthening into a fang lingered in Arthur's mind. There was a possible explanation for his ability to use such a spell that he hadn't considered, and it would clear up a myriad of other strange things Arthur had come to know about his fairy companion in the last few days. Alfred… he couldn't be. He'd sworn he wasn't. His stories were so detailed that he must have been sincere. Then again, changelings were said to be the cleverest of dark creatures and could charm a man into thinking anything was true.

And he'd spoken to Mathias like a friend though he hadn't seen him in years. " _If a guy like Mathias asks if I want a drink, I take it. From one hero to another."_ Was Alfred simply speaking in code and saying what he and Mathias were right in front of him? Not heroes, but dark fairies? And the first thing they'd said to each other — a question about the weather — wasn't that reminiscent of an old poem Arthur had heard in his childhood?

 ** _Two faeries met in a tangled wood  
near a light child's bed.  
_" _How looks the sky?" One faerie said.  
_ " _'Tis_ _sunny," said his friend.  
_ " _Then off to work," said the first one clear,  
_ " _For sunny skies are safe  
for changelings dark and cunning here  
to take a child's place."  
Be wary now, my child dear,  
for if the sky is blue  
and you hear the sound of chitter-chat  
from a beast unknown to you  
then hide away, and guard yourself  
with scissors by your bed,  
for changelings dark and cunning here  
_** _ **will do just as they said.** _

Both Alfred and Mathias immediately said the weather where they lived was rainy. Could that possibly mean that it wasn't safe to do what their dark instincts told them?

"You look troubled, Arthur," Yao said.

"Troubled? He looks sick," Francis said.

Arthur realized that he must have been very pale with these pieces falling into place. Alfred had to be a changeling. Alfred had to want to replace Arthur. He was the one in Lafée whom the townsfolk screamed of. He was young and blond and looking for a group in town. Why couldn't he have actually been a changeling? Arthur swallowed and clutched his chest. He backed away from where Alfred was sleeping and knelt down to his things. Cold sweat formed on his back. He had a pair of scissors with him. All he needed to do to prove his suspicion was press them to Alfred's skin. Regardless of his building fear, he was relieved that he'd been able to figure it out. His own cleverness had proven itself when faced with a dangerous creature trying to hide its true nature and appearance.

Just as he managed to get his scissors out of the bag, Alfred stirred. He fixed his glasses and stretched under the blankets. His hair was messier than it had ever been, and the rogue cowlick stuck straight up instead of falling slightly to the side. Arthur had to be brave. He knew dark fairies had an aversion to the sight of scissors, but he never knew exactly how one would react when he saw them.

"What are you doing?" Yao asked.

"Don't question me," Arthur retorted. He put his index finger and thumb through the holes and held the scissors open wide like a gaping maw. His eyes were wide with fear as he walked over to where Alfred lay. He hid the scissors behind his back for a second.

"Good m-morning, Alfred," he said.

"Woah, man, you need to chill out. You're sweating a lot. Are you sick or something? Look, if you're trying to make sure I don't eat your food, I understand. You got up before me this time, okay?"

"I know what you are, Alfred," Arthur forced. "And I'm not letting you steal my life."

"Arthur, stop that!" Francis exclaimed. He wrenched the scissors away from Arthur's hand and threw them across the campsite. "What is your problem?"

"Wait, what just happened?" Alfred asked.

"Changeling!" Arthur yelled, pointing to the bewildered fairy. "He's a changeling! Is it not obvious enough? He used a dark charm effortlessly. He matches the descriptions of the changeling in Lafée. He eats like he's a bottomless pit, and he's always hungry. He's impulsive and overly friendly. He manipulated someone to steal! I bet you he spied on Feliciano last night just to see if he could learn his shape so he could copy it. Let me ask you again. Is. It. Not. Obvious. What he is!?"

Francis and Yao stood rigid at the outburst. Both seemed to be contemplating all of the evidence Arthur had given. Arthur crossed his arms. He shook all over both in fear and authority.

"So, who is it? Who's the poor fairy whose shape you're wearing right now? Is it the dean's son? Are you his 'tenant' in the sense that you've taken the place of his child? Are you even a student of that bloody school at all? Or when you say you're going to school, you go and tarry in the forest with the other dark creatures? Where are you keeping his son?"

"I'm not swapped with his son!" Alfred shouted. His voice was so loud and strong that Arthur swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. He felt weak. His legs trembled beneath him. Alfred's blue eyes seemed to bore right into his soul with a dark and unimaginable strength. He had to be a changeling. Arthur was sure of it. There were a hundred ways of telling whether a man was or not. With the evidence provided, how could Alfred possibly convince him otherwise?

"You're such a baby," Alfred muttered coldly. He crawled out of the blankets and knelt next to where Arthur sat shivering.

"W-well, you _are_ a changeling! Your kind has done more wrong to the Isle of Rain than any wolf-man or wyvern. Do something that will convince me otherwise!"

Alfred hugged his knees. He stared at his feet, his face draining of color. "I... I can't."

"Wait, what?" Yao asked.

"He's right."

All the Mercs stepped back warily at this revealing.

"You mean you're—" Francis started.

"I am," Alfred said. He shrank back, ducking his head low in nervousness and humility. A fake smile spread on his face in hopes of conveying some assurance to the others.

"But, but you said you weren't!" Arthur stuttered.

"Yeah, well, I lied. I'm a changeling. Gah, I didn't think saying that would be so hard." Alfred started laughing softly. Arthur, next to him, felt his blood rushing through him. His head felt light.

Alfred jolted. "Hey, don't die on me!" He seized Arthur's shoulders. "Take some deep breaths. Steady, now. It's okay. A-and _no,_ I'm not going to steal your life. That's crazy. Your life sounds boring anyway. I wouldn't like having to act all grumpy and condescending all the time."

"Stop touching me! Stop it! Get off!" Arthur screeched. Alfred took his hands away and looked at his feet again.

"Dude, you should be feeling some pride. I mean, you just called me out on something I've hidden from so many people. You're really smart."

"You're a _monster!"_ Arthur spat.

"I am _not!_ I'm _not,_ and I can prove it to you!"

Francis interrupted. "So, you really are a… a changeling? You can transform and such?"

Alfred sighed in spite of himself, but seeing as they hadn't tried to kill him yet, his tiny, budding confidence grew, and his smile gained some genuineness. "Yep, I can change into anything I see. I won't deny that it's a little… shocking to say the least, but I wanted to wait a little bit. I really was planning on telling you myself, but I must have let too many things slip, and Arthur figured it out. I probably wouldn't have let him come along last night if I knew I would have to use that little dark charm."

"So then why _were_ you spying on them?" Yao asked.

"Every little bit of information counts!" Alfred grinned, giving a thumbs up. He forced his way through the others' condescending looks.

"You still haven't answered my questions! Who are you right now? What have you done with the body!? If that thing about you eating people is true, I swear I'll testify to the Council of Fairies—"

"This shape is _mine,"_ Alfred said. "Well, I mean, it's largely modeled after my brother, but I didn't steal it from anyone."

"And who is your brother?" Arthur asked.

"Not a swap-child if that's what you're thinking. He _is_ my brother. Not by blood, of course, but we really did live together and play-fight. The only thing I lied about with him was telling you I told him to apply for the Academy. The reason why he doesn't have any magic is because he isn't a fairy. But he's real!"

"I knew Alfred was changeling the whole time!" Ivan said. "He hid it very well from all of you, but he could not hide it from me."

"And why didn't you tell us this?" Yao asked.

"I thought he was trying to hide it for good reason," Ivan replied.

"That reason really only being trust. Yeah, sure, you probably all hate me right now, but I'm good, I promise! I don't want to hurt any of you, and I'm not looking for someone to mooch off of! I've got a perfectly happy life already! If you need absolute proof that I'm not going to hurt you, you can read this letter here." He took the unopened letter and handed it to Arthur.

Arthur, finally able to read the contents of this enigma, ripped the seal from the parchment and unfolded it. The message was pithy:

 _Yes, what young Alfred tells you is true. He is a changeling. Please treat him with respect. He does not wish to harm you. He's a good kid, and a very smart one at that. I believe his abilities could help you in your endeavor._

 _Franklin Jones, Dean of Magic, North Star Academy for Gifted Fairies_

"I'm not swapped out with any of the Dean's children," Alfred continued. "I'm really an orphan, like I said. Every changeling is. Technically, since we're supposed to be born out of shadows, none of us have biological parents. That doesn't mean we all get swapped into loving families, either. For the first year or two of our lives, we're in a lot of pain from our magic trying to stabilize, and that makes us sick, hungry, and ill-behaved little brats, so it can be more dangerous to try and swap us out than to just let us languish.

"I was one of the unlucky ones. Whoever found me after I was born just abandoned me out in the woods one night, telling me the real world was too cruel, and I never saw her again. I lived with my brother's family for a while as an orphan, but they found out what I was and got really angry with me. My brother told me I had to leave. So I wandered around, learned about underground changeling culture and whatnot. And then the Dean found me and offered me protection as long as I was a student."

"You're a terrible student, aren't you?" Francis said.

"A C student at best. You can probably guess why. Light magic is, well, it's really hard." Alfred blushed and fidgeted with his glasses. "Oh, and I don't use these to see. They're to hide my Depth. It's one of the things about us that's nearly impossible to hide without extra help." He removed his glasses and hung them from his shirt collar. "Anything look different?"

"I do not see anything," Yao said.

"Neither do I," said Francis.

"No, I still see you as changeling," Ivan said.

Arthur peered into Alfred's sky blue eyes. At first, they looked the same as they had been, but as he looked closer, he noticed the dramatic difference. Alfred's eyes had a clearness to them that no fairy should have. They seemed darker than before, and deep like a pool without a bottom. There was wisdom and age concealed behind the blue and locked in inky depths of dark magic.

"It's… scary," Arthur whispered.

"It's cool, right!? The more magical you are, the more you can see the Depth of a changeling disguised. So if you were another changeling, you'd basically be seeing my true eyes." He put his glasses back on and the Depth disappeared.

"And your friend, Mathias…"

"Yeah, he's a changeling, too, but you can't tell anyone about him. He really is famous where he comes from, and he _was_ swapped with a human child. No one's ever been able to figure him out. His real name's Magnus, by the way."

"Why is he in Amotoile?" Francis asked.

"He's trying to reunite with his swap-child. He thinks he'll find him here."

"This is… this is ludicrous. You're a bloody _changeling,"_ Arthur snapped. "You're the most disreputable, despicable creature to ever slink over the earth, and you want to walk alongside me, an Isle fairy, and 'help' us stop a dark wizard from getting the amulet. None of that makes even the slightest bit of sense. I will _never_ trust you."

Alfred shivered and sighed, but his smile couldn't disappear. "I thought you might say that," he said.

He slipped a leather glove over his right hand and retrieved Arthur's scissors for him. Arthur noticed he didn't look down at them once, and he walked like just holding them was uncomfortable. He handed them to Arthur with his eyes closed. Then he held out the hand without a glove, palm-up. "Go ahead," he said. "Just press 'em lightly. Not too hard. The lightest touch burns like hell, and if the skin's damaged too much, it scars and loses its mutability."

"You want me to burn you with these."

"I want you to trust me and not be afraid."

Arthur, trembling, took the scissors and brought them close to Alfred's hand while the others leaned in to look. He gingerly touched the closed blades to the soft skin of Alfred's palm. Alfred bit his lip in pain. The place where it touched instantly glowed a deep red, and a bit of wispy smoke wafted up. Arthur brought the blades away, shocked. Fairies of darkness burned when iron touched their skin, and Alfred really was a fairy of darkness.

Unfortunately, fairies of darkness also had lightning fast reflexes and terrible impulses. Alfred opened his eyes the second he smelled smoke coming from his own hand. When he saw the scissors, he gave a fearful, animalistic cry that sounded like the anxious twittering of an eagle. He knocked the scissors aside with his hand and thrust his hot palm to Arthur's forehead. "Sleep! Sleep!"

Arthur's world melted away into darkness, and he felt himself collapse to the ground.


	14. Charming the Charming

_"Is it not obvious what he is!?"_

Ludwig wondered about that awfully loud group of campers in the distance. They clearly hadn't been this loud the previous night. They hadn't even bothered to say hello when Feliciano invited them into their camp to share some pasta. One camper was shouting his head off accusing the other of being a changeling. The one he supposed was the accused changeling was shouting back. Both of their voices were irritating.

He was grateful that his reversion to human form was uneventful, (though it was always frightening to his animal mind.) He'd been able to convince the dog within that Kiku was a friend. For some reason, Kiku was sleeping when Ludwig awoke. Perhaps even a spirit did need sleep once in a while. This particular morning was free of mortification.

Ludwig sat quietly on a rock listening to the squabbling of the others while Feliciano continued to sleep. The fairy's breath came in soft sighs and the occasional _veh_ sound. He looked peaceful in his sleep. His new traveling clothes were quite befitting even though his wings protruded through two long holes cut in the back of his scarlet waistcoat.

Unfortunately, Ludwig did not have very long to wait before something would interrupt his quiet morning. While taking a bite out of the fat sausage perched on his fork, he heard a frantic rustling in the trees above, and something quick and black shot up from a tall oak into the sky. It gave a screech of joy before going into a stark, parabolic dive, and it wasn't staying small as it fell.

"That can't be..." Ludwig saw inky, black feathers fly from the plummeting creature. As it drew closer, he saw the definite shape of a great bird — an eagle. At least, it must have looked like an eagle when it first exploded out of the tree. Now that it was closer, its features were more stretched. Its elongating wings flapped mercilessly to keep it airborne, but something about the way it screeched told Ludwig it didn't care whether it crashed into the ground.

The eagle creature tipped itself forward into a steeper nosedive. Its right wing _cricked_ and _snapped_ as it finished morphing into the shapes of an arm and hand with bony, clawed fingers. Its left wing followed suit. More and more feathers molted away.

"Let me catch you!" Ludwig exclaimed.

"Just stand where I am coming! I am too awesome to be caught!" The now mostly-fairy shrieked in a raspy voice. He rubbed his neck and coughed. "I am almost done! Just be there and I will land on you to hug you!"

"Gilbert!" Ludwig yelled. He reached out his arms and caught his brother around the waist before setting him on the ground gently.

"Not too bad," Gilbert said, "but I would have held onto you." He gave a toothy smile. His eyes shone like sparkling rubies. In the hazy morning light, his wan complexion made him look ghostly. It was as if he were a spirit like Kiku, but tangible.

 _"Hallo,_ Gilbert," Ludwig said. He glanced over to make sure Feliciano was still asleep.

"What, all you say is ' _Hallo?'_ I just fell out of the sky with _style,_ and I dove so awesome, and that's all you say to me? I flew all this way to find you, you know. I did miss you, and it got so _boring_ back at the fortress without you, not that I cared. I wasn't lonely or anything. But I was talking to the walls again. And no merchants came at all. I couldn't find anything new and interesting to buy. Oh, but wait 'til I tell you about what happened when I—"

"Quiet, brother!" Ludwig said. He pointed to Feliciano.

"That's the fairy who wrote the letter?" Gilbert walked over and leaned down over the sleeping one. His sharp teeth loomed so close to the fairy's face that Ludwig was sure Feliciano could smell his breath in his sleep. "He's so… cute. A shame we're stealing his treasure from him."

"Yes, but you _must_ keep your voice down. Call him cute, but he's a pain to control. And he's terrified of changelings, so if he saw you, chances are he'd run away into the forest again and I'd have to find him like last time. It's an even bigger pain to calm him down."

"Sounds like you've been having quite a time. I just wanted to check on you. Do you need anything?"

"Now that you're here, I need you to find some clothes and make yourself presentable," Ludwig muttered.

"What's wrong with how I look now?" Gilbert asked stupidly. He spread his arms wide to show off every inch of his gaunt, pale body.

"Don't play games, brother. I'm serious. If he wakes up and sees you, we'll be in a world of trouble. And if you insist on staying, you might as well fabricate something. I already told him my brother had to stay at home because of allergies."

"Allergies!?" Gilbert scoffed. "The dark wizard Gilbert has no allergies except to sissies and wimps."

"You'd be allergic to Feliciano, then."

"All I brought was a pair of trousers. I think I dropped them close to that tree over there. I'll wear those. Who should I be, then? A passing traveler with some good stories to tell? Are you ever going to tell him about me?"

"Choose one, brother, your pride or the amulet. If I were to tell Feliciano about how awesome a dark wizard and a _changeling_ you are, you'd lose the treasure. Be a passing traveler if you must. How about that human form you use when drinking?"

"Oh, I can be Wilhelm! Just give me a minute. I'll find my trousers." Gilbert hurried into the trees, humming to himself and swearing when sharp rocks poked his bare feet. The utterance of "Wilhelm" sparked more memories for Ludwig. He had forgotten Gilbert's human shape had a name. There had once been more to the character than just a facade for Gilbert to drink without suspicion.

Wilhelm was Gilbert's indigent, innocent, and only-slightly-less-awesome human alter ego. According to his fabricated backstory, he had lost his father to sickness and was left to raise his baby brother with no skills or powers of motherhood. When Ludwig was an infant, Gilbert would assume the form of Wilhelm, put on a pitiful, (but genuine) countenance, and bring the carelessly swaddled baby into town to be nursed. Wilhelm was too poor to pay with money, so he offered to play the flute in exchange. The townsfolk would give Wilhelm blankets, food, and supplies in hopes of allaying the stress of living alone and raising Ludwig in such a pathetic little home out in the country. Wilhelm would thank them profusely and take everything they gave him.

Little did they know, the same flute Wilhelm played so sweetly was also played by the dark wizard Gilbert to cast curses and create chaos.

As soon as Ludwig was old enough to walk by himself into town to run errands, Wilhelm appeared less and less in his life. Ludwig was far more familiar with Gilbert, as his brother always returned to his true shape at home, and that was when he was sincere with Ludwig. It became confusing to refer to his brother as Wilhelm the human to the townsfolk when his brother was so vastly different in name and nature.

Then eventually, Ludwig had to ask the inevitable question. If Gilbert the changeling was his older brother, why was he a powerless human? Gilbert then explained with caution how Ludwig was something called a swap-child. He had been taken from his family to live with Gilbert so one of the fairer folk could live a better life. Ludwig often asked questions about his human family. " _Were they like the people in town?" "What did they look like?" "Was my family asked if it was okay to take me?"_

Gilbert replied that he didn't know much about the family where Ludwig had come from, but he assured him that they must have had much better genes than the people in town because Ludwig was growing into a wonderfully smart and personable boy. To the other question, he simply replied that Ludwig's family never even knew he was gone. The fairy in his place had made itself look exactly like him, and he was only a baby at the time, so he had no real personality to emulate.

Ludwig was satisfied with these answers for a while. It was not until he was older and people began whispering of changeling infestations and the spreading fear of fairies like Gilbert when he began to think about his family again. Had they ever found out? And if they had, did they miss him? And what would they have done to his changeling — his _Täuschlein?_

"Give me one of your shirts. I look stupid." Gilbert, or rather, _Wilhelm,_ was emerging from the forest. Muscles in his hands finished swelling and writhing under his new skin as he spoke. He walked slower than usual with so much extra weight. Gilbert's sickly shape had fleshed out quite nicely into a healthy, athletic build, (though he was still shorter than Ludwig.) He creased his brow over shining blue-gray eyes as he approached. His tongue flicked over flat, alien teeth.

Ludwig threw him a tan-colored shirt that was two sizes too big. His brother accepted it and pulled it over himself. He smiled brightly. "What?"

"What would you like me to call you?"

"I'm Wilhelm!" he scoffed. "Don't worry. I'll change the story a little bit, but I suppose I could still be your brother. I look a lot like you now. But, of course, I am too awesome to be a measly human. Not that _you're_ measly, of course."

" _Ja,_ Wilhelm," Ludwig muttered.

"So what do we do? Just wait here? Where are you going? I suppose it's safe for me to talk to you now."

Ludwig explained the trials that had occurred since the last time he'd seen his brother. He spoke of traveling through Volkerburg's dense forests and ending up finding Feliciano hidden in the wooden box mad with changeling terror. He described Feliciano's bubbly but flighty personality at length, and Wilhelm's lips turned upward at his mentioning of how naive and eager to please the fairy was.

Then Ludwig explained how Feliciano had befriended a burdened spirit in the forest, and how he insisted that Kiku come with them on their quest, (after Ludwig nearly killed him and after realizing he couldn't die if he was already dead.) Finally, he told of how Roma's amulet was hidden in a place where Feliciano would do something he loved, and thus, they decided to travel to the capital of Amotoile.

"I thought you'd like to know," Ludwig said as he finished his story, "that he also perpetuates the myth that you eat people."

"More power to him," Wilhelm laughed.

"No, not that the dark wizard Gilbert eats people — that _changelings_ eat people. That they devour swap-children."

"Just the same. Let him believe whatever he wants. The more people who are afraid of the fairer folk's power, the better. And who knows, it might help us later on with Feliciano if you say you're aligned with changelings. Once you have the amulet maybe. A little power of coercion wouldn't hurt for him to just hand it over."

Feliciano began to groan. One golden eye cracked open, and he stretched in place. He let out a long yawn. " _Buongiorno,_ Doggie," he whispered, just as he had every morning.

"He calls you ' _Doggie?'_ Wilhelm whispered. He raised his eyebrows and tried to suppress a laugh.

"I tell him not to," Ludwig grumbled.

"I'm going to call you 'Doggie' now."

"You are not."

" _Ja."_

"No, but we'll talk about it later."

Feliciano closed his eye again, but upon realizing there was someone else with his companion, he sat straight up to see who the other man was. "Ah, _buongiorno_ to you as well! Who might you be?"

"I'll tell you who I am," Wilhelm said confidently as he stood up and put his hands on his hips. "My name is Wilhelm, and I'm an adventurer. I traverse across the land searching for new roads and incredible artifacts never seen by mortal eyes. It was fortuitous that I happenstance crossed your camp. You see, I'm from Volkerburg, like your friend here." He slapped Ludwig on the back. "And who might you be? You've got some nice-looking wings there."

"Ah, thank you very much!" Feliciano said. He sprang up and bounded over to where Wilhelm stood. "I'm a fairy from Allegria. Feliciano of the House of Roma. It's great to meet someone else from Volkerburg. Have you talked to Doggie? He's helping me to find my grandpa's treasure. Isn't that wonderful?" He took Wilhelm's hand and firmly shook it too many times. Wilhelm looked over at Ludwig like he simply couldn't believe the silliness of Roma's heir. Feliciano's friendly, bubbly personality was just too much to handle.

"You're a _nobleman?_ A pleasure! I've known some nobles in my days as a traveler. They strike me as the boring type. Always in their big estate houses doing absolutely nothing all day. And they complain when you try to put a little fun in their lives. Perhaps you can prove me wrong on that."

"Sure! I'm not boring at all. Probably the most boring thing I do is take my afternoon nap, but sometimes that isn't boring because I dream well in the afternoon. I can also play musical spells on my lute. And I can make a really good bowl of pasta. I made it last night. Wasn't that good, Doggie?"

"Very," Ludwig said. He scowled when Wilhelm's smile stretched wider at the nickname.

"Yes, it was so good! We don't have any leftovers, though. I ate most of it. Doggie, well, let's just say he had a hard time with the fork, and Kiku can't eat anything since he can't really touch anything. Wait, where is Kiku? I think I was trying to find him last night, but he disappeared. Kiku? Kiku!? Where are you?"

"I am here. My dearest apologies," Kiku said as he stepped out from the forest. "I honestly do not know what happened to me last night. There seemed to be spies around our campsite, so I tried to question them, but I cannot remember what happened after."

"Good morning, Kiku," Ludwig said. "Did you sleep well?"

"That is just the thing," Kiku said. He rubbed his translucent eyes, which were somehow showing signs of sleepiness. "I do not sleep. I am not alive. I do not feel the tiredness that a living man would feel, and yet I found myself waking up as if I had fallen into a great slumber."

"Ah, and you must be, er, who are you now?" Wilhelm asked. He reached forward to shake the spirit's hand as if Ludwig's explanation of Kiku earlier was nonexistent.

"Apologies, but I am a spirit. You will not be able to shake my hand," Kiku said softly. "Refer to me as Kiku if you wish. It is what Fairy-ciano and Doggie-san call me."

To this, Wilhelm produced a short "p _ff"_ of laughter. There was that nickname again: _Doggie._ And Kiku's accent made it sound like he called the other one "Fairy-ciano." A terrific pun of natural causes. He tried as hard as he could to force his lips out of their tight grin, but the only way to stop looking at any of them with such a countenance was to turn away and pretend to have a coughing fit.

"Are you unwell, Wilhelm?" Feliciano asked.

"I'll — I'll be fine. Thank you, _hmph,_ Yes, I'm okay. I'm okay!" His coughing soon turned to giggling, and he snorted like a young girl.

Ludwig stood then. "Perhaps you should get yourself a drink of water, Wilhelm. Would you like for me to show you to the river?"

"No, no, I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? Adventurers like yourself are often dehydrated when they think they aren't. I read about it in a book. You really should get a drink." As he said the word _adventurer,_ he rubbed his thumb and ring finger together — a changeling sign to substitute a word for _changeling_.

"Oh yeah. I think I remember reading something about that, too," Wilhelm said. "It looks like it'll be a hot day today."

"It should be _sunny_ by the time we get to the river. Let's go to the river, shall we? Feliciano, give me your canteen. I'll fill it up. You can pack up for the day while I show Wilhelm to the river."

"Yes, sir!" Feliciano said. He presented Ludwig with his canteen and began packing his things.

"What is so funny?" Ludwig asked once he and Wilhelm were out of earshot.

"' _Doggie,'"_ Wilhelm said. He burst out in whoops of laughter.

"I didn't ask him to call me that. He just decided to start using it as a nickname, and he won't stop," Ludwig replied gruffly. He felt heat flush in his cheeks.

"And what about Feliciano? I mean, I never imagined he would be so… so in-your-face _friendly._ If I knew him and someone told me his family owned a powerful amulet, why, I wouldn't bother! He's adorable, though. No _human_ could have that charm to him."

"He's not stupid. His friendliness is a weakness, and that's how we'll get the amulet from him, but I'm sure he has hidden strengths we don't know about. That thing he said about playing musical spells. He's a music caster like you, Gilbert. He played a song that almost made me fall asleep. It was enchanting. He could turn on us with magic."

"Ah, then you just call me in to take care of him. I am a dark wizard, after all, and I'm a lot older than I look."

"Now, we're not going to hurt him unless we have to. He's a nobleman, and if it's discovered someone cursed the heir of Roma, they're going to blame me more than they blame the dark wizard Gilbert, who only curses people in Volkerburg. If you're going to be the magical offense, you could just hypnotize him or something so he's more likely to give it to us. We'll tell him he told us we could borrow the amulet, and if and when we grow bored of it, we can just give it back to him."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"It's not supposed to be fun. It's supposed to be efficient. We could even do it now. There's the problem of the spirit, though."

"Oh, dark magic can work on anyone, dead or alive. It's all about energy levels," Wilhelm snickered. "Should we really do it? Make him believe he wants to give it to us? I know just the dirty charm. No one can undo it except the caster."

"It's actually not too bad of a plan."

"Oh, this _will_ be fun," Wilhelm said. He interlaced his fingers, and the tips of his ears jerked up and stretched into points.

"Keep yourself together, brother."

* * *

"There were two of them," Kiku said, "but I could not remember what they looked like. The shadows concealed their faces. Two men. They must have put me to sleep because I remember one of them saying something and trying to hit me. Perhaps they had a kind of magic that could affect me even though I am no longer alive."

"And you don't remember anything after that?" The fairy looked worried.

"No. Only waking up this morning."

"I hope there aren't spies around. I wouldn't want them to be changelings. Oh no, Kiku, what if it's the same one who was in Lafée and he's following me? He couldn't catch me there. What if he was here last night to try and swap with me?"

"That could be," Kiku said thoughtfully. "I think… I think they knew who Doggie-san was. They were saying his real name. At least, I heard it as his real name."

"So, Doggie's in danger? Why would a changeling want to swap with him?"

"We do not know they were changelings specifically. You must not conclude things that easily, Fairy-ciano. Conclusions must be formed by facts."

"Well, we know there were spies in the camp."

"I can infer that much. They were looking at you and Doggie-san while you slept. They were very quiet and secretive about it. And I remember something else. They knew who I was, too. One of them asked the other where 'the spirit' was. I could only conclude that he was referring to me, so I told him I was there. That is where my memories end."

"They knew about Doggie and you? Then they must have known about me!"

"It only makes sense."

"Kiku, do you think we're being followed and watched?"

"It is confusing," said the spirit, "but we would need more evidence to be sure. Perhaps tonight we can both stay up and see if anyone is watching. Does that sound okay?"

 _"Sì,_ we'll tell Doggie about it, too. We have to tell him the spies knew who he was."

"As soon as he gets back," Kiku said.

"I don't want to be in danger!" The fairy whined. "It _could_ have been a changeling last night who was watching me. You couldn't see the two men."

"And how very unfortunate it is that I could not see them. It seems we are bringing upon ourselves a puzzle that must be solved. A very interesting puzzle."

"I hope we can figure it out."

"Let's see, they could be changelings. They could be thieves. They could be… they could be after your grandfather's amulet, too. You said it could grant wishes."

"That is possible! I hope they aren't after that. Grandpa Roma wouldn't want that sort of thing. He was proud of his wealth and magic. He'd want me to have that amulet and not someone he never knew."

"It is your inheritance, Feliciano. Of course it belongs to you and no one else."

" _Sì,_ wishes in the wrong hands could bring about disaster!"

The fairy continued to pack up his belongings, and when Ludwig hadn't returned, he packed up his companion's things too. His conversation with Kiku continued. The puzzle was proving itself to be very perplexing in nature. Who could the two men be? Spies? Changelings? Thieves? None of them sounded good to Feliciano. He would try his hardest to keep watch for if anyone tried to spy on him again. He had to be cautious in a strange land. The notion that changelings were following him was surely the scariest. If he was not careful, he could be subject to the unknown ordeals of the taken. Then a changeling could end up with the amulet, and unspeakable terror could burgeon.

"We have returned!" It was the voice of Wilhelm coming from beyond the trees. Ludwig returned Feliciano's canteen to him, full of water for the day ahead. He smiled and thanked him, then put it with his other things.

"Feliciano," Wilhelm asked, "could I perchance, well, it's a little embarrassing to ask, but could I give you a hug?"

The fairy straightened. "Of course you can!"

"Kiku, could I give you one, too? It's strange, but I want to know what it feels like to hug a spirit."

"You cannot hug a spirit," Kiku retorted. "I am intangible. My appearance and my voice are the only things that exist to the living."

Wilhelm gave a frown of disappointment. "All right, then, Feliciano. I _do_ wish to hug a fairy, and a _noble_ fairy, before I continue on my travels. I still can't believe I got to meet someone so cute and friendly. You really are the rare, friendly noble."

"I am? Well, that's just how my grandpa taught me to be," Feliciano said. He beamed, then threw his arms around the adventurer. Wilhelm's chest was warm and firm, probably from traveling and being active every day.

Wilhelm did not return the hug.

Instead, he put Feliciano into a fierce headlock. Then, he pressed the palm of his other hand to the fairy's forehead. " _Trance,"_ he whispered. A reddish glow emanated from his palm. Feliciano's legs buckled under him. His vision swirled, and Wilhelm's image shifted out of focus.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Ludwig asked.

"Of course," Wilhelm replied. "Now we can put whatever ideas we want into his head."

"You are a traitor?" Kiku said, bewildered. "Doggie-san, are you working with an enemy? Are you an enemy yourself?"

"Don't worry," Wilhelm said. "You're next. You won't remember any of this once I'm done, and your intangible form won't be able to stop me."

"I must do something," Kiku said. "You cannot put spells on Fairy-ciano. I command you to not lay a finger on him, lest you witness my wrath."

"The dark wizard Gilbert doesn't listen to commands from those not worthy. You're not even alive. How can you challenge the greatest dark wizard Volkerburg has to offer? More evil than green-eyed Basch himself!?"

"Gilbert, stop. This is not the time to show yourself off," Ludwig said.

"I suppose you're right," Wilhelm said. A soft light appeared around Kiku so he was unable to move. Then Wilhelm ran over and applied the same spell to him.

"Okay," he said. "We start with the fairy." Wilhelm knelt down to Feliciano's level where he sat, and beckoned Ludwig to to the same. "Can you repeat after me, Feliciano?"

" _I can,"_ Feliciano said. His voice was eerily devoid of emotion. His half-lidded eyes had a faint, reddish shade to them.

"I'm going on a quest with Doggie."

" _I'm going on a quest with Doggie."_

"We are seeking out the awesome _sogno_ amulet."

" _We are seeking out the awesome_ sogno _amulet."_

"Doggie and his awesome brother, Gilbert, want this amulet, and I have agreed to give it to them out of the goodness of my heart."

The fairy repeated.

"They are very grateful that I am giving it to them once we find it."

The fairy repeated.

"Anyone who tells me Doggie and Gilbert are deceiving me are lying, and I will not listen to them."

The fairy repeated.

"Gilbert is awesome."

Ludwig elbowed his brother in the arm, but the fairy repeated.

"Can you make him less susceptible to fear?"

"What do you mean?

"So he doesn't flee when he hears about changelings."

Wilhelm frowned. "I suppose if it will make it easier for you." He turned back to Feliciano. "I am terrified of changelings, but if I see one, I will not run away. I will remain frozen in total fear."

The fairy repeated.

"When I wake up, I will not remember who Wilhelm is or any of the things he did while he was here."

The fairy repeated.

"That should do it," Wilhelm said. He then walked over the the spirit. "Repeat after me."

" _Yes, of course,"_ Kiku said. His voice didn't sound much different from how it usually did.

Wilhelm ran through the same commands with the spirit, (including 'Gilbert is awesome.') He stood back with his brother. Then he snapped his fingers and said " _Wake."_ Feliciano and Kiku broke out of their trances and looked around strangely.

 _"Veh_ , _buongiorno,_ sir. And who might you be?" Feliciano asked.

It had worked.


	15. Dark Magical Secrets

After finishing his fit upon the sight of scissors so close to his smoldering palm, Alfred earned himself a kick in the back of the head from Yao. There was a fair bit of squabbling over whether that was necessary, but Arthur's case was far more important.

Arthur's body lay limp on the ground where he'd fallen with his eyelids lightly closed. His thick eyebrows for once were not knitted together in annoyance. He looked perfectly fine and asleep if not for the way his complexion was paling and his breathing was getting slower by the second.

"You killed him!? You told him to trust you and then killed him! You really are a monster!" Yao exclaimed. He backed away from Alfred with his own face losing its color.

"No, I didn't!" Alfred retorted. "He's sleeping!"

"He looks dead," Francis said in a wavering, squeaky voice. "He'll… he'll be out of breath soon enough. I can't even hear him breathing."

"He's not dead. The charm just makes him look that way. He's in a really deep sleep."

"How do you know that? You looked out of your mind when you did that magic thing to him," Yao said.

"I was just… _scared._ But not in a way that I was crazy! It was like a reflex! I couldn't help it!"

"How are we supposed to rouse Sleeping Beauty, then? Does one of us have to kiss him?" Francis asked. This time, when mentioning such an act, he retained his serious demeanor.

"Well, there are two ways to break the spell," Alfred hastily explained. "Either I can undo it, or we splash cold water over his face."

"Undo it, then," Yao said sternly.

"Right now?"

"Why wouldn't we do it now?" Francis ground.

"Well, because he might be a little shocked and angry."

"He's going to be shocked and angry anyway," Yao said.

"If maybe someone wants to grab him and hold him, I can undo it," Alfred said. "He was the crazy one earlier. We don't need him running off anywhere."

"I think we all have a right to be scared," Yao muttered. "You grew fangs."

"I did?" Alfred then noticed a few cuts on the inside of his lip.

"I can hold him," said Ivan. He picked up Arthur's body at the wrists. His head lolled to the side. "He is cold," the demon said.

"If you think someone is cold, that's saying something," Francis said.

"Not freezing cold. Little Arthur is just colder than he should be. Like he is dead."

"Okay, I get it!" Alfred exclaimed. "He's not dead, though. I swear it. That _sleeping_ charm is the first one I ever learned. I'm a natural at it. If I need to swap with someone, it gets 'im out of the way quick and easy."

"Ah, so you could use it on any of us at any time?" Yao asked.

"I don't want to swap with you," Alfred said reflexively. "Besides, then there would be only four of us and 'I' wouldn't be here. You'd catch me doing it right away. I'm smart enough to know that." He helped Ivan to stand up Arthur's body as well as it would stand, then he put his palm to his forehead. " _Wake up."_

Arthur's eyes fluttered open immediately. He stumbled forward, but Ivan's grip wouldn't let him fall completely. Color began rushing back into his face. He gave a few gasps for air and steadied himself.

"May I ask why you're holding me so?" He asked. "Your hands are quite cold. Freezing, I daresay. What… what just happened?"

"I may or may not have accidentally put a sleeping charm on you for a few minutes," Alfred said weakly. "I really didn't mean to, though. It's just that I thought I was over my fear of the scissors, but my impulses got to me and I got really scared for a little bit. It has nothing to do with you. You were just the one holding the scissors. I'm the one who undid my spell, too. Sorry if you're shocked."

"A dark spell? You put a dark spell on me after telling me I could trust you?" Arthur said, bewildered. "Is that why Ivan is holding me? So I can't do anything to hurt you?"

"Right," Alfred said. He gave a shining white grin as an attempt to cover his nervousness.

"You are a smart one," Arthur said calmly. "Because if Ivan's demon magic wasn't neutralizing mine, you would probably be suspended from your feet by that tree over there. A classic fairy snare. Now, of course, you can't hold me this way forever. Would you rather I set food beneath you so you could smell it but not taste it, or would you like me to bombard you with light magical frequencies and play them until your ears bleed out? Or would you just like me to take my scissors and hold them on your face under my boot? You'll have a nice, immutable scar so people know exactly what kind of dark creature stands before them."

"Really? You wanna talk like that even after I said a number of times I'm not going to hurt you?" Alfred stood aghast at the rejection of his apology.

"You said that spell is used to put people to sleep so you could—" Ivan started.

"Shut up! Look! I'm trying to be your _ally!_ Didn't Francy call this group a fellowship? Fellowships are supposed to be about friendship and understanding _._ And above all, trust."

"Oh, yes, _trust,"_ Arthur hissed, "the same _trust_ you talked about before you used your bloody dark magic on me. The same magic that infested every town and city on the Isle of Rain and stole our children away. The same kind of magic that made everyone on the Isle afraid, so even magicians were banned from using it. The same magic that our children were taught to fear and shun, turning the Isle into a nation of subjective hypocrites!" He struggled furiously to get his wrists out of Ivan's grip. The demon's hands were growing so cold that his hands and fingers were going numb.

"I didn't want to do that! It was an accident, and I apologize. I'm sorry, Arthur. It won't happen again. It was just my instinct. You can't hurt someone who's trying to help you. I undid my charm. Be a fellow, okay?"

"I can't trust you if you can't control yourself over a stupid pair of scissors."

"You don't have to."

"Ah, but you said this was _about_ trust. Don't contradict yourself."

"Don't be a smartass!"

"Don't use dark magic on people whom you want to trust you!"

"Are you deaf to apology? Because I think I've told you three or four times now how it's over and doesn't matter anymore. I'm just trying to help. You read the letter from the Dean."

"But you're a _changeling_ , and therefore you're a _liar!"_

"I _am_ a changeling, but I'm not lying!"

"So you say, you dark _beast!"_

"Hold 'im, Ivan."

This was it for Alfred. He was tired of endless objections and insults to and because of something he already apologized for and was trivial in the first place. If anything, Alfred was being nice to Arthur. If it were any other changeling in his place, Alfred was sure Arthur would be sleeping again for being so mean. Couldn't Arthur take his word? Couldn't he see that Alfred meant no harm and wanted nothing to do with swapping his exciting life for Arthur's boring and probably miserable one? Couldn't he see that Alfred's only wish was for the enemy of the writer to not get that amulet? No, if Arthur was going to call him out on what he was, and see him as nothing more than what he was, and call him a chronic liar because of what he was, then he might as well _be_ what he was.

Alfred wrestled his arms out of the sleeves of his Academy jacket and threw it to the ground. He seized his glasses from his face and threw those down on top of the jacket. Yao rushed forward to jump on him, but he shook his head. This was not going to hurt Arthur at all.

He stood back a bit, readying himself. Arthur's emerald glare seeped into his being. Alfred glared back. He clenched and unclenched his hands.

"What are you doing, idiot?" Arthur protested. "You said it's not fair to attack a man who can't fight back."

Alfred felt dark magic boil in his blood. He pictured what he wanted to be and visualized himself changing bit by bit. Every single detail streamed through his subconscious. Then, as anyone would flex and stretch after exercise, Alfred started shifting his shape.

His complexion drained of all color and life. The paleness began in his face, neck, and shoulders and crept down his whole body to leave him in the blanched likeness of a dead man. His teeth grew into crooked, yellowed fangs as sharp as knives. Silvery scars appeared on his lips where those fangs had nicked. Perfectly pointed fairy ears stretched longer until they twitched with every passing sound. Healthy, golden hair faded to a wispy, snowy white. Alfred's athletic form faltered. His muscles withered, and he grew thinner and thinner until his ribs bulged from his chest and his cheekbones enforced the outlines of his degenerate countenance. His sky blue eyes deepened to a disturbed and ageless blue only lit by pinpoints of stardust. His nails grew claw-like at his fingertips. His lower jaw stretched into a devilish, pointed chin. At the close of transformation, a bluish, star-shaped birthmark appeared on the bridge of his nose.

Alfred didn't know how to feel, then. Instinct told him to put the nearest person to sleep and steal his shape so he wouldn't be in danger. He tried to suppress it. Another part of him was telling him he was freer this way. He could see clearer, hear sharper, feel nature bending and changing around him. He realized he hadn't been _himself_ in so long that he had forgotten how well he could actually perceive the world. It made up for an appalling appearance. Not even the Dean had seen his true form. Sometimes Tolys made him revert when he was feeling too stressed, but only made him want to run away from the Academy more.

He tried not to get distracted and turned back to Arthur. The fairy was staring into his deep blue eyes. Were they really that mesmerizing? Arthur then tried to back up in fear, but Ivan still held him. The tips of his fingers were turning blue.

"Do I really look that much like a dark beast?" He asked, grinning.

Francis fainted. Yao bent down to help him as a reason to not stare at what Alfred had become.

"Why don't you let him go, Ivan? Uh, I think he's getting frostbite."

"He is fine," Ivan said. He released Arthur's wrists which were covered in a thin layer of frost. Arthur immediately shoved his hands in his armpits to warm them. He shivered at their freezing touch against his warm, sensitive skin.

"So, are we on good terms now or what?" Alfred said.

"How are you going about this? Y-you turned into a monster. That just proves you're a m-monster," Arthur said, stuttering with cold.

"Yeah, this is my true form. I was kinna thinking if you wanted me to prove I'm not a liar, I could just look like this for a while and help you out. 'Course, I'll just be hungrier, and I might complain that it's cold." He picked up his Academy jacket and put it back on. His glasses he hung on his shirt collar.

"It's ridiculous," Arthur said. "Fine. You say you're a changeling. I _understand_ that you're a changeling. I'd throw you into a tree right now, but I can't feel my hands, and frankly, I'm a bit tired of all this nonsense flooding through my head in one morning. What you must know is that I do not trust you as my ally in this endeavor, or at all, at anytime."

"Aw, why not? Are you scared of me?" Alfred threw his arms around Arthur from the back.

"Do not t-touch me! I already told you that! You just decreased my trust which was already at zero. And I'm not… not _s-scared_ of you."

"Oh, sorry. I will honor that, milord."

Arthur spun around. "What?"

"I won't touch you. You can trust me on that. If you're not too keen on trust, I'll just try my hardest not to."

"No, did you… did you just call me _milord?"_

"But you are one, right? I'm a changeling. You're a lord. Ooh, do you want me to insult you now about how you're a lord? That might actually make us even. Or how you're a light fairy. Let's see, if changelings are liars, then lighties are goody-goodies and hypocrites."

"You're a hypocrite."

"No, _you_ are. You just said that you were. The Isle is proud enough of light magic to call themselves light fairies, but they shun dark magic as if it doesn't exist."

"We don't shun dark magic. We honor it as being illegal and impractical to the fair race."

"But you do not believe that, Arthur," Ivan said.

Arthur's face twisted up. "Of course I do."

"No. You are lying."

"Of course he's lying. He complained about hypocrites earlier, and couldn't you see the way he tensed up when he said dark magic is impractical?" Alfred laughed. In this shape, the laughter was hauntingly hollow and obnoxious. It made Arthur shiver like he had trespassed into the darkest part of the forest.

"You _don't_ think dark magic should be illegal?" Yao asked. "Wait, didn't you say something about it being a long and hard process if you're caught doing it?"

"Why yes, it is. That doesn't mean _I_ did anything of the sort with dark magic."

Alfred and Yao looked to Ivan.

"I guess it would be okay to say some things," Ivan said, "Little Arthur told Alfred's secret, so I will tell Arthur's secret."

"No you won't." Arthur said.

"You've got a secret?" Alfred asked. "Yes! Let's hear it! I wanna hear it! If it's dark magic, I could help you. Proves you're a hypocrite. Also yeah, you told my secret before I was ready to tell you, so we should all hear yours."

Arthur went very red in the face. He bent down and tried to distract himself with reviving Francis, but he couldn't do much with frozen hands.

"Lay it on us, Ivan. What's Arthur's secret?"

"He likes dark magic. He thinks it is useful."

"Preposterous!" Arthur snapped.

"No, it is true," Ivan continued, "and Arthur has used dark magic before. He got in trouble for it. Lots of trouble."

"So you did," Yao said.

"I did not."

"Stop denyin' it, dude! I think it's actually really cool that you like it!"

" _You_ would," Arthur snapped.

"Arthur does not know what to think. He is embarrassed and scared, and he wants it all to not have happened. He did not understand consequence of his spell, and it turned on him. Nipped him in butt. Council of Fairies found out that he was using dark spell, and he was arrested. Consequence has lasting effects that haunt him."

"What kind of spell?" Alfred asked.

"I believe Little Arthur can tell you that," Ivan said. "If you pester him enough, he will tell you what kind of spell it was that got him in trouble."

"Aw, did you try to give yourself goat horns?" Alfred said.

"Why would I want goat horns?"

"I dunno. You seem like the type of guy who'd want 'em. They look pretty snazzy on Ivan."

"Are you calling me a demon!?"

Alfred, for the rest of the day, made it his duty to try and figure out what kind of spell Arthur had cast that turned on him and revealed him as a dark magician. It was also his duty to not get attacked by Arthur. After a while, he felt lucky to have made the decision to revert to his true form. Arthur trailed behind them while they walked, but Alfred could hear Arthur performing magic before he cast any type of spell, so he was able to dodge magic projectiles and evade attempts to thrust him into a tree. Yao was also interested in finding out the nature of the Arthur's dark art, but Alfred could tell he was wary of him. He averted his gaze after little bouts of staring and made sure to walk on the other side of Ivan where Alfred could not accidentally brush him.

Francis' voice was shaky whenever he addressed Alfred, and his demeanor kept shifting between being grateful for Alfred's presence and being stern about the dark charm he'd put on Arthur. Alfred didn't particularly like those times because then Arthur would butt in and give his own reason for why a "dark beast" shouldn't be joining them on a serious and possibly dangerous mission.

Yet despite Arthur's sour demeanor and constant peppering of insults, Alfred couldn't bring himself to hate him. He was certainly growing more disagreeable with each time he glared or attempted to attack Alfred or scurried out of his way when he approached, but Alfred wouldn't hate someone who was fascinated by dark magic. He just wished that Arthur could be more open about it. It wasn't like anyone from the Isle was around to scold him, so why was Arthur so afraid to speak his mind?

Still, Alfred felt somewhat alone and left out. He could play pretend, but the others would still know what he was, and he would still know what he was. He would always be a changeling no matter what shape he wore. The reason the Dean wrote the letter was to encourage Alfred to tell them of his true nature. Perhaps then they would not be so astonished and fearful if he used his unique powers to help them. He had revealed himself to them completely now, and they only distrusted him. How good it had felt to talk to another changeling when he'd found Mathias in town. Here, he could relate to no one.

He almost regretted stealing the swallow seal letter after the school board decided it was much safer for the dean's daughter to answer it.

Again, they set up camp, but this time, they made sure it was farther away from Ludwig and Feliciano so as to be inconspicuous. They did not venture out to spy on the others while they were dining. Alfred protested, but it was explained that the best way to do things would be to wait until the group reached another town and then catch Feliciano alone. Yao made the most delicious stir fry any one of them had ever tasted. Even though there was a common bout of mistrust toward him, the Mercs still let Alfred eat as much as he wanted as long as the others received their share. He was grateful for this. It was his intrinsic dark magic that kept him alive in a sickly shape and allowed him to completely transform himself into someone else. The energy for it had to come from somewhere.

Then, full and satisfied once again, the Mercs of the Messy Hand settled down for another satisfactory night's sleep. A guard hadn't been set on the last string of hope that Alfred did not want to swap with one of them in the dead of night. Alfred, not wanting to cause any stress or grief to the others, decided to sleep this time.

It had to have been an hour later when Alfred couldn't bear the cold anymore. His ears were numb, and with practically no meat on him, he was shivering too much to even snuggle up in a blanket. He got up and walked into the woods to switch back to the shape he'd worn before. Instantly, he felt warmer, but he knocked into a tree when coming back, and the noise caused by the last of the frogs had dimmed considerably.

"Hate you," someone said in the darkness. It was melancholy and slurring.

Alfred peered around the camp. Only three men were there including Ivan's pillar-like form. Arthur's blankets were empty.

"I-I hate you. You've caused so much trouble."

He recognized it as Arthur's voice. It was coming from just within the trees on the other side of the camp. He strode over and saw the other fairy. His white-wine hair was matted, and his green eyes looked red like he'd been crying. Indeed, a fresh spring of tears was running down his cheeks.

"Leave me alone," Arthur slurred.

"Arthur, what's the matter?" Alfred asked. "Why do you hate me? You can tell me."

"I-I hate you. You never listen to meeee. Why don't you listen to me? I was nice to yooou."

"You weren't nice to me today."

"Stop talking. You're not supposed to talk."

"I can talk if I want. I'm a person, too," Alfred said.

"You will listen to mee. I-I — you can't tell me what to dooo."

"There is something definitely wrong with you," Alfred remarked. He swung around the tall tree and caught a glimpse of something shiny in Arthur's hand. It was Ivan's flask — the one that never emptied. Arthur took a large swig from it, and a silvery liquid ran down his face with the tears. Arthur put the cap on the flask, and it refilled.

"Artie? Um, how long have you been drinking for? You know that flask never empties, right? And it's Demon's Spirit. Do you know how potent that drink is? I'm not sure a fairy like yourself can handle that amount of alcohol."

"You know what I ha-hate about yooou?" Arthur drawled. "It's your bluue eyes. I haaate them. They sh-shouldn't be like that. A-and stop talking to me. I hate you. Yooou know I hate you?"

"That's it. Give that to me." Alfred snatched the flask out of Arthur's hand like Arthur couldn't even see him. His emerald eyes were glazed over, and his mouth hung open with spit and Spirit dribbling down his chin.

"I hate you."

"Yeah. I know you hate me, but you're drunk. You're _really_ drunk. You are so lucky I found you."

"Yooou're not what yooou say you are. You you're nooot."

"Haven't we been over this? Well, I guess there's no arguing with you now. I've got to put this in a safe place where you can't find it again." Alfred tucked the flask into the pocket of his jacket. He dragged Arthur back to the place where he was sleeping while Arthur told Alfred how much he hated him.

"I hate you. Yoou don't hate me as much as I hate you."

"Dude. Shut up."

"Why do yoou treat, treat me like this? Yoou were supposed to he-help meee." Arthur gave a small hiccup and whined when he couldn't find the flask.

"Yeah, well I don't hate you. If I did, I'd let you drink yourself to death. I am helping you. I honestly didn't know you had a problem. I'll be keeping this out of your way from now on."

"I hate you!" Arthur shouted. "I-I hate you, Peeeeter. That's, that's not your name."

Alfred sighed. Now Arthur was really getting out of his mind. "You're going to hurt yourself." He scooted on his knees over to where Arthur lay crying. "Why don't you sleep, okay? I'll help you sleep. It's not to swap with you. It's because I don't hate you. Yet, anyway." He pressed his palm to Arthur's forehead and whispered, _"sober sleep."_ Arthur grew still and stopped wriggling. His eyes closed softly. This charm would speed up Arthur's ability to metabolize alcohol to a miraculous rate and hopefully flush all the Demon's Spirit from his system.

He was about to return to sleep when he heard something else coming through the trees. It wasn't a voice. It was a light strumming. Someone was playing music. A string instrument. Could that be Feliciano? Alfred had seen a lute sitting close to where the fairy was sleeping the previous night. Was he good? Perhaps a peek wouldn't hurt.

Alfred followed the direction of the music to where he could see the glow of the other group's fire. Sure enough, he saw Feliciano standing and yawning while the lute was slung around his neck. Ludwig, as the dog-man, was asleep, and the spirit was a few feet away from Feliciano. He seemed to be watching for something.

"I'm tired," Feliciano remarked.

"Well, you don't have to stay up. I don't sleep," said the spirit.

"Yes, but what if something like what happened last night happened? I don't want you to be put into a magic sleep when I'm not awake to witness it."

"Suit yourself," said the spirit.

"I think I'll just play one more song," Feliciano smiled.

Alfred smiled too as he watched from beyond the greenery. This wasn't spying. This was being an audience… with bonus information about Feliciano's interests and abilities. He also wondered how much the other group had inferred after his sleeping charm on the spirit. He hoped they weren't too suspicious about anyone following them.

Feliciano began strumming immediately. He was indeed talented. The song he had chosen was very pretty. It began in a slow, melancholy minor key. The melody was peaceful and suspenseful. The dying flames of Feliciano's fire danced with the flowing notes.

Then he switched into a major key. The song flowed ever stronger through Feliciano's fingers. He played faster and started swaying with the song. The spirit looked at him strangely as if he did not understand the emotions that came with playing beautiful music.

Alfred looked over his shoulder. He swore he heard a ringing sound in one of his ears. No one was behind him. Puzzled, he turned back to the show of watching the fairy dance and play and flutter his wings so fairy dust littered the ground to leave a glittery glaze.

The song switched to a minor key soon enough. Feliciano danced slower, but he kept the emotion in the song. He played with vigor through the slow, somber passages. Alfred looked over his shoulder again. He heard a definite ringing in both ears. "Hey, stop, will you?" He asked no one.

The ringing started to bother him. It was grating. A sharp pain shot through his ears. Who was making that noise? It certainly wasn't coming from the music. Alfred clamped his hands over his ears, but the ringing wouldn't stop. It was getting worse. His head started pounding.

"Stop. Stop it," he snapped. A fiery ache was spreading through him now. His head pulsed. His inner ears hurt so badly that Alfred was not surprised when when he took one hand away, a bit of blood dripped on it. Both the red blood of this form and the dark, purplish blood of his true form swirled in the creases of skin. Tears tugged at his eyes.

It was not until Feliciano switched keys again when the pain exploded. His head ached like it was being smashed repeatedly from the inside. Blood kept dripping from his ears onto his hands. He felt like his very soul was a drum, and each vibration caused pain to ripple through his ears to his head and all throughout him. The ringing sound kept getting louder and louder. And it was slowly changing from a ringing to a low humming that pierced his insides with each soundwave.

Alfred let out an ear-splitting, inhuman shriek that echoed into the night and made birds scatter this way and that. He ran back into the forest as he finally realized what the sound was. Feliciano's music was not a song, but a medium through which he could emit a light magical frequency. The light frequency had overwhelmed his dark blood. It was a trap. Whether Feliciano had known he was coming or just wanted to be safe from any changelings, he had no idea. He made his way back to camp, where everyone was awake except for Arthur.

* * *

"What was that!?" Feliciano yelled. His wings almost vibrated with fear. Ludwig lifted his head and propped it on his monstrous, furry hand. The shrieking had stopped now; its dying throes echoed in the distance.

"It did not sound like any creature that I have ever heard," Kiku said. "No spirit has ever made that sound, either."

"Was that your anti-changeling song, Feliciano?" Ludwig asked in a low growl.

"It… it was," Feliciano said. "That must have been a changeling. A changeling heard my song and ran away. What if I hadn't played? Then a changeling would be here. A changeling was watching us."

"There is a possibility that we are being followed by the same changeling who was in Lafée, then," Kiku said.

"I don't care what changeling it was. It was here and it was watching us. This proves we're being watched. We were watched two nights in a row."

"Yes," said Ludwig. "And if what you told me earlier is true, then it must have been a changeling last night, too. Changelings are adept with charms that make people sleep. You two were wise to stay up and wait for someone to come along."

"And the changeling was so quiet. I wouldn't have even known he was here if I didn't play my song," Feliciano said. "Kiku, do you think you would have known he was here?"

"Not unless he spoke," Kiku said. "That was the only way I was able to find the two men last night."

"We must keep watch, then," Ludwig said. "Changelings are tricky creatures." He put his head down to rest again.

"You sleep, Fairy-ciano. I will keep watch," Kiku said.

Feliciano was awake for most of the night.


	16. It Could Knock You Down, Hard

The moment upon which Arthur realized a dark spell cast by a dark fairy had saved his life, he was thrust into an unwavering state of utter amazement.

He awoke to the sound of morning bustle and a tangible state of unease. Francis had formed a fire without his help, and a steamy scent of breakfast was wafting through the campsite. Ivan was busying himself with a growing stack of wood. The bright sun blinded Arthur for a few seconds. Had the others been cheeky again and let him sleep through his share? Had it been another sleeping charm? He looked up, but the face that poked into his was not Alfred's in a nervous state of apology, but rather Yao's, and he seemed satisfied that Arthur was now awake.

However, Yao's morning greeting was quite blunt. "Were you drinking?" He inquired. Arthur struggled to understand. His memory was cloudy. He tried sitting up, but a sudden wave of nausea rolled through him, and he lay back down again.

"Just tell him you were. They won't believe me! I can explain everything, just please say you were drinking!" It was Alfred's boyish voice. Arthur looked to see the changeling sitting about twenty feet away. He had changed back into his light fairy form. His wrists were bound to a skinny tree behind him with a bit of rope.

"Was I?" Arthur croaked. He strained to remember. He had definitely slipped Ivan's flask into his pocket after supper and taken a small sip before he went to bed, but what then? The rest was a blur.

"You were," Alfred said. "Tell them you were."

"No, Arthur. Don't listen to what he says. Tell the truth," Yao said.

"Help me up, will you?" He asked Yao. The human grasped Arthur's arm and helped him to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, and his whole body was covered in a cold sweat. Silently and unsteadily, he walked into the trees and emptied his stomach. He trembled in discomfort.

"I told you!" Alfred shouted. "Fairies never get sick on their own! Now, let me go!"

It was true, Arthur supposed. He had never gotten sick before unless he indulged. It seemed that once in a generation, a Kirkland would bear the quality of a weak tolerance, and he had received it. After his first arrest pertaining to drinking, his brothers had talked to him like he was a baby for weeks. A baby who couldn't hold his drink.

He wiped spit from his lips and walked business-like back to the others. A dull headache marked itself present, but after throwing up, his mind had cleared a bit more, and he didn't feel quite as awful as his first impression of the day. He sat where he had slept and affirmed with further confusion that he must have been drinking.

"You had the flask of Demon's Spirit," Alfred explained immediately. "I don't know how much you'd had. You were crazy. Shouting and saying things that made no sense. I mean, I guess you hate me and all, but you just wouldn't stop saying it."

"Where… where did you find me?" Arthur asked softly.

"It was over there," Alfred said as he pointed.

"So you… can someone explain to me why he is bound? That is my primary concern. I woke with the bright sun in my eyes, and he is bound. Have you cast another dark spell on me, Alfred?"

Francis took charge. "He is bound because when I awoke last night, you were out cold, and Alfred was screaming like a madman with blood on his hands."

"What!?"

"I said I can explain," Alfred shot back. Arthur began examining himself to see if he had any red cuts or gouges. There in fact was dried, crusted blood on Alfred's hands when he looked again.

"What did you do?" Arthur asked in a meek voice dripping with cold fear.

"Nothing!" Alfred yelled. "I did nothing, and they think I worked a sleeping charm on you so you wouldn't come after me and then attacked the dog-man or something stupid like that! Honestly, you'd think I'd just go in without a strategy? I'm not an _idiot."_

"It makes perfect sense!" Yao snapped. "Why else did you run back screaming? The dog-man was a lot bigger and stronger than you, and he attacked you back. You were in a war-craze when you got back here, and that's why you wouldn't let us touch you, lest we end up like Arthur."

"And I bound you because you refused to undo your spell on him," Francis added.

"Will you let me tell my side of the story?" Alfred protested. "It wasn't a sleeping charm. We know that by now, since he woke up on his own, like I said would happen. We also know he was drunk. My charm was to detoxify him."

"Yes, Alfred, but the _blood!"_

"May I ask what is going on here?" Arthur asked. "If you please, I'd like to ask a few questions of my own. I seem to be the most ignorant man here, and apparently I lay victim last night." He glanced at Alfred, who looked as though he was being batted repeatedly in the nose by an inquisitive cat. "I suppose the first thing we should collectively know is why you have blood on your hands, Alfred."

"You'd probably understand that one. These guys didn't," Alfred replied, disgruntled. "Just let me tell the whole story. I was really cold last night, so I went to become a light fairy, and when I came back, I found you off your rocker behind that tree over there with Ivan's flask in your hand. You were obviously super drunk, so I worked a charm that would get rid of all the bad stuff and wake you up when you were well again. After I did that, I heard Feliciano playing his lute, so I went to the other campsite to listen. And _bam!_ The song he was playing was a light magic frequency. 'Course, I didn't know that, so when my ears started bleeding from that awful noise, I ran back here as fast as I could, and _some_ people jumped to conclusions."

"A light frequency, you say?" Arthur asked. "Alfred, could you turn your head?" Alfred did so, and Arthur peered inside one of his ears in the sunlight. More blood was crusted inside, and the skin looked red and tender. His demeanor softened. "A frequency?"

Alfred nodded. His face showed a gladness that someone had listened to him for once.

"You never attacked the dog-man at all?"

"Swear an iron blade in my chest I never even let him see me. I just wanted to listen to the music. You were out cold because of my charm."

"Then, what about the blood?" Francis asked in a very concerned tone.

"It's quite simple, really," said Arthur. "All magic creates energy waves when it's used, and all magic has a different frequency. Dark magic has a high frequency, and light magic is low. Normally, they are so high-pitched that no one can hear them, but there is such a thing as a pure frequency. It's still very high, but low enough so fairies can hear it. They're dangerous frequencies because we can be sensitive to them. Since Feliciano is a winged fairy, he must have created a pure light frequency with his music that overwhelmed Alfred's dark energy."

"Why else would there be blood in my ears? The dog-man wouldn't go for my ears."

"A pure frequency is so powerful over a fairy of opposite magic that it quite literally makes the ears of whomever hears it bloody," Arthur said. "Did it sound to you like a ringing, Alfred?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that part is settled. Clearly, you were in shock when you came back. I've heard tales of fairies being attacked in such a way, though casting a pure frequency with music is something I've never thought of. It's a rare talent in this day and age to be a music caster."

"I may never understand magic," Yao said.

"Well, I was using it to help Artie," Alfred said. "Come on, tell your part of the story. Let me be justified."

Arthur was taken aback. This quarrel was a completely unexpected start of his day. He thought of the previous night after supper. There was a bit of strong memory before the cloudiness that must have comprised his drunken state. But how could have gotten drunk in the first place?

"I… I do remember taking Ivan's flask, as much as it pains and embarrasses me to confess such a fact," Arthur began. "In retrospect, I honestly had no idea why I wanted it. There are a lot of things plaguing me lately. A lot of little annoyances weighing heavily on my mind. I must have supposed a little swig would make me relaxed enough to sleep with the apparent potency of the drink. But getting drunk, I have no recollection of."

"It will do that to you," Ivan's creamy voice said suddenly. "Demon's Spirit is powerful poison to one who is not demon. If you had one drink, Spirit will coax you back. You will want to become one with Spirit."

"Whatever do you mean?" Arthur said defensively.

"I think he means it is addicting," Yao said.

"Aw, dude, you musta had one sip and tried to shove the whole flask down your throat," Alfred said worriedly. "And it's a poison?"

"Yes. Poison," Ivan affirmed. "Even one drink will cause death to little fairy." But instead of saying it with warning, Ivan's tone was that of casual fact. He smiled like it was a great joke Arthur had nearly poisoned himself.

"You're saying I could have died," Arthur said.

"Is it hard to understand? I thought you would know better," Ivan said innocently.

Arthur tugged at his collar. He suddenly felt quite ill again. He looked at the ground and clenched a fist at his pure stupidity. He could have been dead. Dead in Amotoile of all places, and not because of a human's spite or a dark fairy's greed, but because of his own stress and ignorance. Why on earth had he felt the need to imbibe? And what had possibly possessed him to drink something he had no knowledge of?

"Don't beat yourself up. It's okay. I saved you."

Arthur looked at the changeling still with his hands tied behind his back. His eyes grew wide at the confession. If Alfred hadn't saved him, no one else would have had the talent to do so. Without Alfred's dark charm, the poison would still be seething in his blood and seeping through his dead remains.

"You saved my life, Alfred," he uttered in disbelief.

Alfred gave a great, shiny grin. "You believe me?"

"If nothing else could have saved me, then yes, I do believe you. You don't realize what you've done."

"I saved you?"

Arthur's voice shivered. "With a dark spell, you did."

For at least an hour, Arthur was unable to speak to anyone. Alfred tried to remain humble while waiting for the others to pack up, but his ego was clearly swelling. His shining smile grew wider every time Arthur looked his way. He looked as though he'd just slain a dragon by punching it in the nose. Arthur made the small mistake of smiling back at him once. Alfred howled with delight and told the others with an irritable volume that Arthur had been happy.

Alfred was annoying, but tolerable, Arthur's rational mind decided. Whether he was _trustworthy_ was another matter entirely. He was a changeling after all. It was natural to feel some sort of suspicion toward him. At least he finally understood why Alfred said he was talented with illusions. He wasn't an illusionist with _spells,_ but with _himself._ He'd been lying and telling the truth at the same time.

"So," Alfred said as they walked down the trail a few hours later. He had reverted to his true form for some unexplained reason, and the way his long, pointed ears flicked every so often was unnerving. He slapped a skinny arm around Arthur's shoulder and pulled him closer. "How're you feeling?"

"Don't touch me," Arthur snapped. Alfred lifted his arm, but instead of putting it at his side, he patted Arthur on the head. "I'm feeling quite fine, thank you. You really mustn't treat me as if I need constant care."

"Hey Arthur, can I ask you something?"

"And what would that be?"

"Who's Peter?"

Arthur's stomach lurched at the utterance of the name. How in the world did Alfred know that name? Did he have mind-reading powers? Had Ivan told him?

Realizing that Alfred was puzzled in waiting for a response, Arthur quickly replied, "I don't know. Who _is_ Peter?"

Alfred scrunched his nose. "I thought you'd know. It was a name you said last night when you were drunk. At first, I thought you were calling _me_ Peter, but then I thought it was a pretty odd name to call me. My name's not even similar. Then you said that it wasn't my name and I got even more confused. Is he someone you know?"

"I know no one named Peter," Arthur said in feigned confusion. "Must have been a slip of the tongue. I must have been truly mad."

"Yeah, like I said, you said something like, hmm, _'I hate you, Peter. That's not your name.'"_

Arthur almost tripped and fell upon Alfred's quotation. It was not Alfred who said it, but Arthur's voice issuing from Alfred's mouth in a frighteningly accurate impression.

"So I can't quite tell if you said the wrong name when you were drunk, or you thought I was someone else and then you realized it was me," Alfred went on. "Are you sure you don't know anyone named Peter? Someone you hate? A school rival from a long time ago or something?"

"Alfred…"

"Yeah?"

"Could you do that again? My voice?"

Alfred flashed a devious grin. _"Wot, you mean like this? Stop eating like a pig, Alfred. You're going to burst. Of course, maybe that won't be such a bad thing. Perhaps since I was here, I'll be called a hero for disposing of such a disgusting creature, although it's such a shame it had to be the one who saved my life, and on top of that, a user of the magic I oh-so admire and long to practice for myself. Ah, I'm so envious of you, Alfred—"_

"Stop it!" Arthur commanded. "It's not funny." The others were laughing murkily.

"Why'd you ask me to do it, then?"

"Could you do me?" Yao piped up from behind them

"Gladly," said Alfred. _"Agh, so many immature people. If only I was allowed some peace and quiet. Arthur is sour, Francis talks in his sleep, that demon has no sense of personal space—"_

"That is funny!" Ivan said.

Arthur huffed. "And what is this? Another cute, nasty trick of yours? Just change your voice a little bit to scare the kiddies? You can't do a perfect impression of me, mind you…" He continued prattling nervously, and the comfort of his voice coming from his own mouth concealed the sound of bones shifting and cracking and compressing as someone became slightly shorter or the hushed awe behind him. A soft finger tapped Arthur on the shoulder.

When he turned, another pair of stormy, emerald eyes was glowering back at him with a haughty sheen.

Arthur stepped back. His mouth hung open at the sight. It was _himself_ standing there. Or was it? The other him wore the Academy jacket, which was now a bit more fitting now that the body wearing it was thicker. His copy looked down at his hands and flexed his fingers, intrigued. He walked a few steps forward, then realizing that his gait was off, adjusted it so he walked exactly like the real Arthur.

"This is fascinating," the other Arthur said, exactly as he would. He took a finger and brushed it over the furry eyebrows, smiling at their bristly touch.

"It's... it's not," Arthur whispered. "Change back."

"Oh, but I'd like to get to know this shape, if you'll let me. It's quite different from what I imagined. Your line of sight is an unfortunate disadvantage. And I cannot help but wonder exactly how you are able to run with such stiff legs as these. By rum, they feel like a great weight of age has been set upon them. This entire frame is stiff."

"You change back!" Arthur commanded. "Stop talking like me! Stop _being_ me! And I've had terrible sleeping accommodations for your information! And you're not even that much taller than me in the first place!"

His copy looked at him sternly and clicked his tongue. "You mustn't shout. And my superior judgement is not one to be rebuked."

"How can you even? You're… you're... this is why the Isle _loathes_ your kind, you know!"

"Why, because I'm a perfect copy of you? It's just a generally-known fact of life that I can be whoever I please. Sorry, _whomever."_

"Oh, please, you're not a perfect copy of me."

"He seems to be," Francis said. "Appearance, voice, gait. He's just as average-looking as you."

"So what?" Arthur said hotly. "I've got something he doesn't."

Arthur's copy but a fist to his chin with one knuckle lifted, which was a habit he himself had. He knit his bushy brows and looked at Arthur with sickening pride. "And would that be that one ear is only slightly pointier than the other or that unfortunate tattoo on your—"

"How do you know about my tattoo?" Arthur squeaked.

"Don't question a changeling when he's got his reference standing right in front of him."

"It's not funny."

"I think it is."

"You make me feel like you're trying to _swap_ with me."

"I most certainly could."

Arthur froze. His countenance hung in a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief.

"You know I'm messing with you!" His copy laughed. There was an uncomfortable crunching noise, and the other Arthur shifted back into the pale shape of Alfred. "That tattoo, though, really?"

"Okay, fine. You know I have a tattoo. You can't know that it's a tattoo of a—"

"A _unicorn,"_ Alfred finished. "Yeah, my subconscious can see it. A majestic, white unicorn with a pink mane. And it's on your—"

"We don't need that information, Alfred. The former suffices."

Despite Arthur's reddening face, Alfred continued laughing in his irritating, bell-like tone. They trod onward through the forest at what seemed like a snail's pace. Ivan assured them that the fairy had come this way. Arthur just wished they could find a place to camp soon so he wouldn't have to deal with constant, utter nonsense.

Alfred was finishing a rather loud whoop of laughter when he stopped suddenly, and Arthur crashed into him. "What was that for, you dolt?"

"We're doing it," Alfred said softly. "We've got to. My stars, we're totally doing it."

"Doing what?" Yao asked.

"You know we've got to get Feliciano by himself, right? So we can convince him not to trust Doggie?" Alfred's voice started trembling with excitement. He balled his hands into fists.

"Your point?" Arthur snapped.

He whipped around and faced the group coolly. "Well, I've just been thinking. It's such a darn shame we don't have a talented shapeshifter among us who was basically born to swap himself out with people. I mean, we could just steal Feliciano away for a few hours and leave someone else in his place. Wouldn't that be something?" His voice overflowed with saccharine pride threaded with anticipation.

Arthur realized what he was getting at. "That's a bad idea. You can't possibly know enough about Feliciano to be him. You'd show your changeling habits and make a target of yourself right then and there."

"Worth a shot, though, if you wanted to get some information outta him. And _come on,_ Arthur. I was so good at copying you, I scared you. And I do know about Feliciano. I watched him last night, remember? And I watched him when we saw them with the pasta, and I've been listening to him while we've been walking. I can hear him with these babies from a mile away." He flicked his ears proudly.

"It sounds worth the risk." Yao said.

"Very clever," remarked Ivan.

"Perhaps we could even take Feliciano back with us to the capital of Amotoile," Francis said. "He would be safe, then."

"That's where they're going anyway," Alfred replied. "They think the amulet's hidden there."

"I don't entirely see it, though," said Arthur. "I mean, if you can't control yourself. What if Ludwig's got a pair of scissors?"

"Then I put 'im to sleep, just like I did with you. You'll already have Feliciano safe with you. And if it comes to it, I'll battle the dog-man. Ooh, yes, dog-man… versus _dog-man._ I've never been that big before. It'll be so exciting!"

"Question. Will I still be your backup?" Ivan asked softly.

"Totally," Alfred said, flashing a sparkling smile and a thumbs up. "Now all we gotta do is figure out how we're going to swap him for me."

* * *

"Are you absolutely sure this is necessary? It might just scare him away more. And he's got wings. He could fly away and not hear you at all."

"You don't worry about that. I'll make sure to be loud enough so he can hear me," Alfred said. He finished ripping a few holes in his shirt. "Are you ready yet?"

"I _told_ you illusions are not my strongest subject," Arthur said. Alfred watched him flip through pages of a spellbook that looked as if several pages had been ripped out forcefully. It seemed like a very odd artifact for someone as tidy and proud as his companion.

"Hey, I've been thinking. Do you think you could make me cough up blood? Knife wedged in my gut?"

"I've been waiting for you to ask all day. Of course I will!"

"No, I mean like when you do the illusion. It's not a bad idea. Just a little extra terror."

"I was being sarcastic, idiot, and I'm not creating a knife. It's too much to focus on all at once. I'll create a few holes in you. Enough so he knows you've been hurt. Then you'll just have to be loud enough to be convincing. I judge you can do that, can't you?"

"Right. Then I just beg him for help until he comes over, and I'll put him to sleep and take his shape. You and Yao take him back to Francis, I'll give the second signal to Ivan, and off we go."

"I hope this works."

"It'll work! You gotta be positive. Hey, can you make my spit look red?"

"You're not a tragic hero, Alfred."

Yao and Francis appeared out of the trees then. Francis was untangling twigs out of his platinum hair.

"Nice, you're back. Did you mark some places?"

"Yes," said Yao. "We found their camp. It's about a mile west of here. From there, we traveled about a mile south and marked a tree with an X. It's all a big triangle."

"You couldn't make it a star on the tree?"

"I don't have time to carve a star. An X is very recognizable. That will be your position, right?"

"Right," Alfred said. "That all falls to you, Yao. Once Ivan's done scattering them, you chase Feliciano to me. I'll handle 'im from there."

"And I will be at our camp?" Francis asked.

"Right. Home base. You'll be our jailer. Keep watch so no one comes that way and keep us all in when we get back. Now, does anyone know where Ivan is?"

"Already at his position," said Yao. "He is waiting for your signal."

"Right. I'll give that to him once we're all in position, which means Artie's gotta figure out how to cast a simple illusion."

"I'm working, all right?" Arthur retorted. "I'm just trying to memorize this spell."

"We haven't got all night, Artie."

"Fine. I'll study it on the way," Arthur said. He picked up the book and stood to face Alfred. He had changed into a light fairy and was wearing his ripped shirt. His hair was quickly tousled with a swipe of his hand.

Alfred's position, where he would pretend to be hurt, was nestled against a small copse of oaks, one of which was marked with the large X carved into the trunk. Alfred gave a small frown at Yao's sloppy handiwork. Splinters were sticking out of the X in several places. The mark was shallow in the bark. Yao tried to explain to Alfred that time conservation was a much better quality to admire than an overall cool factor, but Alfred could only give a half smile and acquiesce.

"Make it realistic," he insisted, addressing the illusion.

"It will only be realistic if you can stand still," Arthur said. "Quit moving around. I need to get these in the right spots."

"It's not going to hurt, right?"

"It's not supposed to, but you'll have to act like it hurts."

"Right. I knew that."

Alfred tried to stand as still has he could. Excitement was building in his mind. It sparked in his chest and sent shivers through his skin. Finally, he could swap with someone for a good purpose. A changeling's notorious dark powers used for a heroic deed. Alfred smiled into the darkness. He'd promised himself he would become a changeling hero, and the dream was so close, he could taste it.

Arthur lifted two fingers, which glowed an eerie greenish in the sylvan darkness. He closed his eyes in concentration for a few seconds, then took one tattered rip in Alfred's shirt and pressed his fingers into the soft muscle of his stomach. The fingers sunk down into a morbid, red hole. Fresh, illusory blood spurted from the wound. Arthur took his fingers out. The blood on them faded into a sparkling mist and was gone. He stepped back to admire his handiwork.

"Just one?" Alfred asked. He furrowed his brow over puppylike eyes.

"It's a stab wound, Alfred. Right in the gut like you asked. If it were real, it could knock you down, hard. I can't give you so many holes that you should be dead. Do you want me to give you the illusion of pain?"

"I'm good," Alfred said.

"Right," Arthur said. He turned his eyes to the moon. "I'll hide behind that tree over there. The illusion will have to be maintained. Yao, you know where your position is, right?"

"I'm with Ivan," Yao said.

"I'll give you fifteen minutes to get back there, Yao, then I'll give the signal," Alfred said. "Ivan will scare them, and you chase Feliciano here. When he's close, veer off course like you thought he ran off somewhere else."

"I've got it," said Yao. He rubbed some more dirt on his face and untied his hair.

Waiting was not one of Alfred's most prominent interests. Arthur told him to try and count to sixty fifteen times, but he was counting too fast. His mind raced alongside his heart. The nonexistent wound in his stomach was leaking all over his shirt and hands. Once or twice he had to confirm with Arthur that it wasn't real. It was amazing how lifelike it seemed. He shivered. A real blade would probably make his entire abdomen burst into flame.

He finally finished counting, at a good speed this time. Alfred drew a long breath in and gave a piercing hawk screech that echoed across the forest. The hooting of owls was silenced. Frogs and crickets stopped chirping for a few seconds. Even the wind seemed to cease upon the signal call. Then, everything resumed in a rather chaotic manner.

Yelling issued from the other camp in the distance. Possibly the loudest sound was the barking of the dog-man. Alfred knew what this meant. Ivan had gone into camp and used his snow magic to create a disturbance. Up in the sky, Alfred made out a dark, unnatural storm cloud take shape, and a wild, white blizzard exploded from it to down below. The dog-man continued barking mercilessly, but the blizzard raged on. Clearly, Ivan was enjoying himself.

Then there was a high-pitched scream. Feliciano. It quickly left the environs of the other camp accompanied by a stern shout from the dog-man to stay in one place. Alfred knew Feliciano couldn't. Yao was chasing him. He had dressed himself to be a human marauder, building off of the other group's uneasiness when it came to spies. He was carrying with him a metal ladle as his weapon, and he had been instructed to tell Feliciano he was armed with powerful dark magic.

The screaming grew nearer with every minute. The plan may have been a bit brash, but it couldn't be simple. If the other group was suspicious of another group with dark magic, they may not have let Feliciano go by himself anywhere. Anyone who asked him to do so could be working with a changeling. This way, Feliciano left the camp out of force.

A harsh whisper reached Alfred's consciousness. _"Go! Go! He's coming!"_ It was Arthur from behind the tree. Alfred looked to see a silhouette in the distance. But something was odd about it. Yao should have been running one way and Feliciano the other. Instead, this silhouette was trudging slowly, and as it grew nearer, Alfred saw that it was made up of two men. One was carrying the other, and neither was screaming.

"Hey, Alfred, are you there?" It was Yao's tinny voice from the shadows. "Something is wrong with him. I told him I had dark magic and he just… stopped."

"Is that him?" Alfred asked. He forgot about acting in pain and strode over to where Yao was carrying the fairy. It was Feliciano, all right. His amber-gold eyes were plastered open by fear. He held himself rigid as if he had looked into the eyes of a great monster leering at him. He seemed not to notice that he was slung over Yao's shoulder, yet he clutched the back of the human's shirt so hard his knuckles were white. His breath came in quick, noiseless gasps, some of which were accompanied by incomprehensible fragments of words.

"I am just as confused as you are. I managed to chase him out of the camp, but as soon as I said I had dark magic, he became like this. He just let me pick him up and carry him. He didn't struggle at all. It's like he's paralyzed out of fear."

Arthur emerged from his place behind the tree. Alfred's wound disappeared, and all the blood smeared on his face and hands vaporized into nothing.

"D'you s'pose we should just take him back to camp like he is?" Alfred asked. "I don't think he can hear us."

"We can't have him seeing you, erm, stepping into his shoes," Arthur said. "Put him to sleep just to be safe."

Alfred did so, and Feliciano didn't protest. The fairy's body fell limp in Yao's arms. His wings drooped lifelessly behind him, and his eyelids fluttered closed.

"It's good we saved him the terror," Arthur said.

"Actually, I kinna agree," said Alfred. "If he was scared this much from _Yao,_ I wouldn't have wanted him to die of fear from me, and I'm not even a dark fairy right now."

"So you do have a conscience," Arthur grumbled. "Yao, help me get his clothes. We'll swap them for the ones Alfred's wearing. And Alfred, give the second signal to Ivan."

"On it," Alfred said. He gave a trilling, birdlike whistle. Gradually, the miniature blizzard in the distance dissipated.

Arthur and Yao sat the sleeping fairy down and worked to get his shirt off over his enormous wings. Alfred stood back a few feet so he could get a full view of Feliciano, removing his shirt so the wings would have room to appear. Bright stars, he'd have _wings!_ He shivered in anticipation.

Alfred zeroed in on Feliciano's shape and blocked out all distraction, his eyes going hazy and trance-like. He saw every piece, every detail, every change needed, and tremors zipped through him as his form prepared to shift to his will.

A warm, pleasurable itch spread through his body as it became strangely viscous and malleable. Instantly, an intense tightness took over his skin. Alfred looked down at his hands and watched as their strong shapes shrank down to become soft and delicate. Musician's hands. A few quiet _pops_ emerged with the sudden lengthening of his fingers.

 _Crack._ He felt the bones in his legs compress with a much greater pressure than when he had become Arthur. The dramatic change in height almost made him stumble, though his legs now harbored a firm strength needed for kicking off and taking flight. His bones also felt different after shifting. Thousands of tiny pockets formed within, and they seemed almost hollow like a sponge, yet still strong and solid. A bizarre mixture of man and bird.

Then his chest and torso felt squeezed as he slimmed. His abs smoothed and melted into his new, slender frame. Bulges of muscle vanished to be replaced by lean, toned limbs built for agility and speed. A few strands of auburn hair fell into his eyes. He reached up to brush them away and felt with his new fingers how his face was changing from rounded into soft angles.

Then, Alfred felt truly excited. There was a tingling, bubbling sensation between his shoulder blades. A new set of muscles and tendons was growing where he had never felt them before. He looked to see two sets of sparkling, golden wings emerging from his back. Though small at first, they stretched down into their full sizes quickly, and joy rushed through him when he realized he could fold them up and down and flutter them in the moonlight.

As if coming out of the delightful trance, the heat and pressure abated, and he was suddenly no longer Alfred, but Feliciano. He took a few steps forward and felt like he was floating. His whole body had an extraordinary lightness. He felt weightless and free, like he could take off into the sky and never come back down. With his new wings, he probably could. He'd always thought fairies' wings were heavy and burdensome, but these happened to be the lightest part of him. He practiced moving them up and down a few times. They flitted with the slightest twitch of a muscle in his back — _aviatory deltoids,_ he remembered from biology class.

But screw what the muscles were called. He had wings on his back, and they were amazing! Anxious to try them for what they were, Alfred jumped. His legs by themselves propelled him a full five feet into the air. He fluttered his wings in and out, and to his culminating excitement, he awkwardly hovered in the air with a steady stream of fairy dust falling softly to the ground below. His wings had the faintest of nerves, and he could feel the wind as they sliced through it. This was too much. A bubble of excitement burst in his throat.

 _"Veeeh!_ I-I can fly! I can fly, and I'm not even a bird! I'm a man! Oh, this is so cool! It's the most freaking amazing thing! You won't believe how incredible this feels!"

"Keep your voice down, Alfred, we don't want the dog-man hearing 'Feliciano' talking about how he's never flown before," Arthur remarked. "Now give us the rest of your clothes and put these on."

"Right, right. This is probably the coolest, most amazing shape I've ever been!" He stopped fluttering his wings and crashed to the ground. "I guess I don't know much about landing with these wings. Agh, why does my voice have to be so _girly,_ though?"

When the Felicianos had swapped clothes, Alfred stood as an identical fairy to the one Yao had carried just a little bit before, complete with dreamy countenance and frivolous posture. Arthur then took the laurel branch clip from the real Allegrian's hair and fastened in the same spot in the changeling's.

"Now, don't forget to squint your eyes," Arthur said.

"And whine a lot," Yao added.

"And be overly friendly."

"Yes, _very_ friendly and happy."

"Men, please," Alfred said with an authority unfit for his current shape, "I'm a changeling. Don't tell a changeling how to be someone he's not."

"Well, one more thing for good measure," Arthur said. "Promise that you will _not_ reveal yourself or try to fight Ludwig. This is not a violent act of justice. You are simply holding Feliciano's place until we convince him to come to our side. We'll send someone to fetch you when that happens. If Ludwig starts to suspect you, leave immediately and try to find us. We'll be heading to the capital with an alternate route. And leave means _leave,_ not _put up a good fight."_

But Alfred had already turned on his heel and flown into the forest to find the dog-man.


	17. Knock You Down, Pt 2

Ludwig wasn't entirely sure how the crisis could have been avoided. He mentally ran through scenario after scenario, but they all seemed to end in the same place. Feliciano was gone. The little human thief had chased him out of the camp. He ran away into the forest, and Ludwig and Kiku were left to their own devices with not a scream pointing out where the fairy may be.

Feliciano made pasta again that night, although with a certain amount of superstition as to who might appear to witness him stirring it. There was a tension amid the group, and Feliciano seemed to be the most tense out of all of them. He had walked sluggishly all day after complaining he was so worried about changelings he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. Every so often, he would freeze and look around madly to see if anyone was following them. The slightest rustling of a branch would attract his immediate attention. Ludwig persisted in telling him they would be fine, but he couldn't help but feel concern for the fairy's nerves. Two nights in a row they'd been visited by a creature possessing dark magic. The second night proved the visitor to be a fairy of darkness. Ludwig realized that Feliciano had been visited by his greatest fear — in the middle of the night. It was only reasonable that he would be increasingly on edge as a third night drew closer.

"Calm down, Feliciano. I have decided to keep watch tonight," Ludwig said. It came just after Feliciano nearly spilled a scalding spoonful of water on himself.

"Oh, really? Thanks so much, Doggie!"

"You need to sleep. If I watch, you _must_ try to sleep."

Feliciano's face fell. "Oh, o-okay, I'll try." And at this, Ludwig knew he would not try, but instead lie still and pretend to be asleep until sleep found him.

He even ate slower, which was the greatest surprise. Ludwig considered that perhaps food would be the thing to cheer him up after such an anxious, gray day. No, this time, it took Feliciano at least twice as long to finish his meal as he usually did, and he rarely spoke during. He did not even smile or comment on Ludwig's way of eating. His massive hands did not work with fairy-sized utensils, so he was forced to hold his bowl up and eat like a dog. Feliciano didn't even look at him and instead focused on his own food. His wings quivered in the cooling night air.

"Why don't you play some music?" Kiku suggested. Clearly, he was also able to see the stark changes in the fairy's behavior.

"Well, I wouldn't want to attract any unwanted attention," Feliciano said softly.

"But if someone is watching, your song could scare him away," Kiku replied.

"I guess that makes a little sense."

His mood did indeed begin to recover with the comfort of his lute. He played the anti-changeling song twice through, although Ludwig noticed his face twisted in worry when he had been twice through and there had been no frantic escape from an unseen creature in the trees. Regardless, he continued playing through his favorite songs. There was the night song he had played for Kiku and a new song with lively dance properties. Feliciano was about to play his comfort song, but Ludwig remarked that he needed to be as alert as possible if he were to catch an intruder red-handed in their camp. His transformation had already made him grow exhausted.

Ludwig's ears pricked soon after Feliciano had finally faltered and lay down to rest. He heard voices coming from somewhere in the distance. They were getting nearer. He walked a little ways into the trees and sniffed the air. The scent of an unfamiliar human came to him.

The voices stopped. Ludwig thought he could see two silhouettes in the darkness. One was very small, and the other could have been the trunk of a tree, it was so thick and large. However, they moved away from the camp, so Ludwig dismissed their presence. Cautiously, he retreated back to camp. The fairy was lying with his eyes closed, though the way he kept moving around told Ludwig he was not yet asleep, and probably wouldn't be for some time. It was a miracle he could even keep his eyes closed with the thought of what may be lurking just within the trees.

For a while, Ludwig paced in circles around the camp. He kept himself awake by talking to Kiku. The spirit's voice showed no hint of exhaustion. What would it be like, Ludwig thought, to not feel the ache of tiredness or hunger? To live lifeless and distant like Kiku did? It was not a lonely life, as Kiku had stated. He had the wondrous spirits of the unseen world to relate to.

"We passed by a party today," Kiku remarked. "It was back at the pond with all the slimy algae. A number of frog spirits were congregating there, and I saw Suppainappuru-san again. I do not know if I told you about him, but I saw him after we left the dream-eater's cabin. He was holding a leaf full of punch with one of his four legs. He was very surprised that I was still traveling with you. I told him I did not mind it much. I am glad to help you keep watch in case someone unwelcome comes along, though I am disappointed that I cannot do much to help if someone attacks."

"It's good to have your company, Kiku," Ludwig said. "Feliciano seems to like you. It was your idea to suggest he play a song. It calmed his nerves a bit."

"I have never seen him so quiet as he was today," Kiku said, "normally he is quite obstreperous. Do you think he may be sick?"

"Sick with worry, he is. He'll be fine. If a changeling comes, he won't run away."

"How do you know that, Doggie-san?"

"I — I'm sure he won't," Ludwig said tersely. For a moment he had almost revealed the truth about Gilbert's intrusion. Kiku had been also been bewitched, but he hadn't been told the bit about Feliciano staying frozen with fear if any changeling came about.

"I probably would, though," Feliciano whimpered from where he lay. "Or I would fly away."

"I am sure there is nothing to fear," Kiku said.

"Except all the terrible stories about people who get taken away."

"Why don't you tell us one of these stories?" Ludwig asked with slight anger rising in his voice.

Feliciano seemed surprised. He sat up and leaned on one hand. "W-well, one story is that a changeling attacked a nobleman when he was coming home on his horse one night. And he changed into him and left the nobleman stranded and wounded. Then he went back to his house and… and he tried to kiss his wife! Make out with her! It's true, I swear! It really happened!"

"Do you have a wife?" Ludwig asked.

"N-no, but I have my big brother and all my friends, and I don't want an ugly, deceitful changeling pretending to be me and lying to them. And what of me? _Some_ people come back and throw out the changeling, but there are so many others who don't! Probably stabbed, poisoned, eaten, charmed, bewitched, it's all a different story. That's why they tell us never to go into the deep, dark forest! I'm not a child anymore, and I still don't venture out alone."

Then, Ludwig snarled at the fairy. He felt his blood hot and seething. It was dangerous for Feliciano to talk in such a way when his wild mind was stirring. Ludwig didn't know what kind of unspeakable things others of Gilbert's kind did. He didn't even know the full extent of Gilbert's deeds before he had gone sober on cursing. Perhaps they did beat and poison people for a desperate chance at a respectable life. But the people who were taken, well, he was one. He was a helpless infant on the night he became a swap-child, and not a finger had been laid on him. He was given to someone who rasped and shuddered from his own perpetual illness and jeered at the weakness of humans, but Gilbert never once hurt him. Gilbert had even called Feliciano _cute._ And for Feliciano to be fearful of changelings because of rumors and inexperience with their kind was for him to be fearful of the most loving man Ludwig had ever known, and not because of his "dark wizard" notoriety.

"Doggie?"

"Go to sleep!" Ludwig commanded. He wished he could've said something different, but instinct was clouding his judgement.

"Doggie-san, I am sure that Fairy-ciano's fear is rational."

"You shut up, too! Everyone shut up! If I see a changeling, I will tell you!" His voice came out in a twisted hybrid of man and beast. His lip rode up over gleaming teeth as the muscles in his muzzle tightened. His ears drew back, and his legs tensed. Feliciano seemed to die on the spot. He grabbed the nearest stick and pretended it was a flag of surrender, which he waved with frantic earnest. He was so bent on threatening his companions that he only twitched an ear at the eagle's scream that caused such an eerie silence.

"This is very fun to watch. I wonder who will win?" Ludwig froze. A thick man stepped from the greenery into view. He was even taller than the dog-man. No, he couldn't be a man with that stature. He was a goatish monster with blue skin and little black horns and a voice that brought a chilled silence over the quarrel. The temperature indeed seemed to drop when he entered the camp. Ludwig looked to see curtains of snow trailing behind his enormous boots.

The creature looked confused for a second, then smiled. It was not a friendly smile, but one that made the air temperature drop to an icy, wintry degree. His horns glowed a dull blue. "I forgot," he said calmly, " _I_ will win."

The glow of his horns turned bright blue-white. His hands took on a white glow of their own. There was a crackling sound from above. A freezing wind whipped through the camp. The ground seized up and solidified. The pads of Ludwig's feet grew instantly numb. He forgot about what Feliciano had said. Ludwig focused all his energy on the visitor. He drew in air and barked as loudly and strongly as he could. He then jumped at the creature. His powerful legs carried him straight at it.

"Oh, that will not do," the creature said. He willed the storm to cloak him and reappeared behind Ludwig.

"Changeling!" Ludwig barked.

"Actually, I am snow demon. Much bigger. Powers of deepest winter. A changeling may match your strength, but I can surpass it." At this, white sheets of snow blasted out of the sky down to the camp. The demon blew, and a feeling of icy water ran down Ludwig's spine. The blizzard grew so thick that Ludwig could no longer see the ground. He could not see his opponent or Feliciano. Kiku was only represented by a faint light. He was unaffected by the storm.

Then came a scream. It was the fairy, but where was he? A black shape darted in front of his vision. If he squinted, he could make out a human with messy hair wielding a… a ladle? He only saw it for a second before it chased a golden sheen right out of his field of vision. That must have been...

"Feliciano! Do not run away!"

"Ah, yes, that is my friend. You may do as you wish, little friend. Steal and plunder. Whatever you wish!" The demon laughed a horrible laugh that sounded like icicles crusting up with snow. The blizzard faded just enough so Ludwig could see him again. He lunged, but the demon was too fast. He dodged the attacks, both physically and by blowing the sharp crystals of snow into the dog-man's face. When Ludwig finally got his jaws around the demon's wrist, his teeth frosted over, and his tongue was immovable with cold. He let go immediately, to which the demon grabbed his muzzle with an icy hand and pushed him into the ground.

Ludwig got up and howled. He thrust himself at the demon again and again. In return, the demon began summoning and throwing snowballs that pelted his fur and smacked him in the jaw. They melted on his hot, heaving body and soaked him with frigid fury.

"I thought it would be harder to fight you," the demon taunted.

"You don't know who you're fighting," Ludwig growled.

"Ah, but you are the cursed dog-man if I am not mistaken."

"Quite obviously, I am, but do you know my name?"

The demon stood pensive. A swirl of glittering snowflakes encircled his hand. "Ludwig," he finally said. Ludwig recoiled. His claws scraped on the skating rink that the ground had become, and he fell over. His shoulder collided with a solid sheet of ice.

The demon loomed over him. He tried getting up, but he could not feel his feet. The visitor's eyes lit with a wicked, purple gleam. He just stood there smiling, not bending down or kicking him or bringing out a weapon, but smiling. Then, his smile jerked to a thin line, and his eyes widened. The blizzard languished. The air seemed to grow warmer.

Kiku was standing behind the demon, and he was not what he had been moments before. His indigo robe had changed into a cloud-white jacket and pants with cuffs that shone gold like the sun. His feet were covered by a thick pair of boots. His piercing, brown eyes were flecked with gold, and for once, the wind whipped up by the demon's storm blew his night-black hair forcefully. Kiku was not a spirit, but a solid, tangible living man, and he had just jabbed a long, pointed sword into the frozen muscle of the demon's back with both hands, only slightly to the right of his spine.

The three of them stood silent for a few moments as Kiku tried to force the blade deeper. It seemed that the inside of the demon's body was completely solid. His bluish blood was thick and viscous, but still cool like freshly fallen snow.

The demon turned to look over his shoulder and spoke. "Please do not hurt me. I mean no harm to you. Really."

Kiku stopped. He looked up into the demon's eyes. They showed only a twinge of pain, but were overflowing with disappointment. This was clearly not how he wanted his intrusion to turn out.

"You must leave this place," Kiku commanded. "My friend is a good, honorable man. You must not hurt him." Then, he pulled the sword out of the demon's back. A small bit of blood oozed from the shallow hole onto the back of his coat.

A strange bird called in the distance. The demon looked to where it came from.

"I will leave now," the demon said. With one last, small smile, he departed in a puff of snow. The wind stopped howling. The snowclouds faded.

Kiku's form swayed and faltered. He fell to his knees, and the sword tumbled out of his hands. His weapon vanished into nothingness. His body seemed to blink in the moonlight. His white clothes faded, and light began to pass through him again. He panted as if he had just sprinted a mile.

Ludwig hoisted himself into a sitting position. "What was that?" He asked, amazed.

"I do not know!" Kiku wheezed. "I felt the need to help you, and all of a sudden, I saw an image! A memory! I was alive, and I reached at my side for a sword. So I tried it, even though it seemed quite silly, and I _felt_ one. And I pulled it out, and I had this energy that I could not describe. I felt… alive again. I think it may be a power I was not aware of. I knew I could not be alive forever, though. I felt the energy draining. But just for a moment, I was no longer of the spirit realm."

"Could you do it again?"

Kiku stood trembling. He looked with a focused expression into the darkness, then grasped at his side. Nothing happened. He tried three times, but no sword would appear. "I do not think I can do it at any time," he said. "Perhaps it has to recharge."

"I was in danger. That must have been what triggered it. You _can_ do something if we're attacked."

"Not for very long," Kiku said. "I may have to practice."

And that was when Ludwig realized Feliciano was gone, and he gave no screams that would lead to him.

"Feliciano!" He bellowed into the trees. "That thief chased him away. We must find him. Feliciano! Where are you!? You get back to this camp!"

"Perhaps I should look for him," Kiku suggested. "I cannot defend the camp if the demon comes back here."

"Sounds good. I will stay and start packing up. This is dangerous territory. We are definitely being followed. That demon knew my name. Dark magicians, changelings, demons, thieves, and spies. I do not know whether they are after the amulet, but we can no longer pretend that we are alone."

* * *

Feliciano returned to camp by himself only an hour later, and Ludwig was absolutely astonished at the feat.

His ears pricked at a pitiful snivelling coming from just within the trees. "Feliciano?"

The fairy burst from the foliage. "Doggie! Doggie!" He cried. His cheeks were stained with tears, and his eyes were red. Swiftly, he ran over and threw his arms around Ludwig's robust, furry torso. "Oh, Doggie! I was so scaaared! That… that monster said he was a _dark wizard,_ and I just kept running and running! And I fell down and hurt my ankle! The dark wizard almost caught me, but I was so scared I couldn't even move! I think he ran off somewhere else. I think… I think he lost me and got confused. Oh, Doggie! I thought I'd never find you again! I thought I was going to just wander around with a dark wizard looking for me _forever!"_ He squeezed even tighter and nestled his face into the warm muscle. His wings shivered.

"You found your way back here all by yourself?"

"Mm hm," Feliciano whimpered. "Where's… where's Kiku?"

"Kiku went off looking for you about an hour ago. It's so good that you're back."

"I'm really happy to be back, too," he said softly. "Why did you pack up?"

"We're leaving, Feliciano, as soon as Kiku comes back. The sooner we leave this forest, the better. We can't keep letting ourselves be found by demons and dark wizards. Even I was bested by that monster. He had powers that far outweighed my strength."

"But… but I won't get any sleep if we leave!"

"Do you want to be chased out and scared so terribly again?"

"No," the fairy whined. "But I'm so tired from running away. Could I ride on your shoulders, please?"

" _Nein."_

"Why not?"

"Because I'm also deprived of my rest. You've seen me transform. I'm a hundred times more tired than you, and my transformation was hours ago. It's got to be past midnight, and I haven't slept."

Feliciano appeared to acquiesce. He let out a great yawn and retrieved his lute from the far side of camp. He suddenly jerked up. "Oh, Doggie, I didn't notice, but your shoulder, and your muzzle…"

"That snow demon fights hard," Ludwig growled. He grabbed his shoulder. It hadn't split, but the fur was matted and wet, and it still pulsed. He was finally getting feeling back into his feet. One claw had been clipped by the ice. His muzzle did have some claw-marks from where the demon grabbed him. A fire would have soothed the chills, but the ground was now too swampy to start a flame. "You said you hurt your ankle?"

"Y-yes," Feliciano said. "I was flying, and I fell." He pulled up one leg of his pants to show a little scrape on the side of his ankle, like it had grazed a sharp rock.

"It's not that bad," Ludwig said. "Is that all?"

The fairy nodded.

"At least your fall caused you to be unseeable. You're lucky you weren't hurt more." It was an uneasy notion. Feliciano said the one chasing him was a dark wizard. Unless it was a changeling chasing him, he would just keep fleeing and fleeing. He wished that circumstances like these would have been taken into consideration when enchanting the fairy, but _this_ of all things was impossible to predict.

"Doggie, well, do you think _I_ could try and find Kiku? I won't leave. I'll just fly up and try to see him from the air."

"I doubt you'll see him with all the trees, but you could try."

Ludwig's back was turned when Feliciano mouthed the words " _hell yeah,"_ and he shot like a bullet up into the hazy sky. Up in the air, his presence was marked only by the soft light reflected on his wings.

He flew noiselessly for a few minutes before diving down to the right, and soon returned with Kiku at his side. Kiku was explaining his incredible transformation into a living man, and the fairy was listening with excited interest. He outlandishly tried to pat Kiku on the shoulder for his accomplishment, but his hand went right through it.

"I'm so glad you're okay, too, Kiku. If you were alive, he could have hurt you. I didn't think a demon could be so rough and scary."

"I don't understand why a snow demon was so far west of the demon lands," Ludwig said. "Why would a demon want to terrorize us and bring a dark magician with him? It seems very strange."

"Maybe demons feed off of fear," Feliciano suggested worriedly.

"Why would he leave, then?" Kiku suggested. "It had to be obvious that I could not hold my living shape forever. I would soon be useless again, and he could have just terrorized you more while you were weak."

"That bird call in the distance. That's what caught his interest," Ludwig said. He turned to the fairy. "Did you hear it too? That bird call? It didn't sound like anything we'd heard before."

Feliciano screwed up his face in thought. "I heard it, yes. Do you think a demon could make a sound like that?"

"Perhaps," Kiku said. "That would mean there are more demons in the forest. That snow demon entered our camp when a screech was heard."

Ludwig realized. "The attack was planned, then." He remembered the two shapes moving toward and away from camp. One was indisputably the snow demon, and the small one must have been the dark wizard Feliciano spoke of. "They were scouting us," he murmured. "And Kiku, you said that it was two men who spied on us, and one of them had dark powers. Not only that, but they knew who we were. Do you think it was the same two?"

"I am sure that those two were not the same men. They appeared to be roughly the same size, and they both seemed to be human or fair, not demonic. So it is at least two groups who sought interest in us. There was also the changeling last night."

"How many people are after us?" Feliciano whined.

"I don't know, but that's why we need to leave this forest and get some protection by being in public. Perhaps you should have a weapon, too, Feliciano. I'll allow you to carry my short sword when I am in this form."

"Doggie-san, earlier you mentioned that it might have something to do with the amulet."

Ludwig nodded. "If anyone else got wind that there's a wish-granting amulet still around, I'm sure there would be others who would want it. How they know _we're_ searching for it, I have absolutely no idea. It would explain why the demon told the dark wizard to 'steal and plunder.' I'm glad he didn't look for anything in the camp. I've still got the wand tucked in my bag."

"You had better make sure it is still there," Kiku said.

"I did. We still have it."

"Can I see the wand, Doggie?" Feliciano asked.

"Maybe later. I don't want to be brandishing it around when there could be people looking for it. The next thing we need is for some monster to come swooping out of the sky and snatching the wand right out of our hands. Then we'd be at a loss."

"Yes. You would not be able to use the amulet, then," Kiku said.

"I certainly wouldn't," Ludwig said with a great yawn. "I suppose we should go now. It's not safe here."

They began their usual morning routine with Ludwig leading, Feliciano dragging his feet, and Kiku occasionally greeting an invisible creature or fending off those who tried to drag him away from the living. Feliciano soon offered to fly up and see if the forest would end soon. When he came down, he explained that there was a town just within half a day's walk, and from there, the road would begin to grow wider as it drew closer to the capital city. Ludwig's mood seemed to improve at this. He had been getting more irritable at the fairy's antics as the night drew on. He could feel himself slipping away with every star that faded into his wild self. He would find himself sniffing at trees and then snapping back to rational thought.

There was a strange scent that kept plaguing him. He couldn't tell where it was coming from. Every once in awhile he would catch the scent drifting toward him in and amidst the myriad other scents that his excellent nose could perceive. It smelled familiar, but he couldn't place exactly how, and it kept following him as they traveled.

Feliciano was in a fit of yawning near a moonlit clearing. Ludwig's irritability was caused by his curse, but the fairy's was caused by his simple lack of sleep. He continued complaining to Kiku about his tiredness and hunger, but Ludwig knew Kiku's mind was elsewhere. He would respond to Feliciano's whining with only a slight nod and resume his noise-blocking countenance.

"Can we please sleep soon?" The fairy asked longingly. "Maybe we can sleep now that it's getting lighter. I don't think anyone would want to ambush us during the day. Kiku can keep watch, can't you, Kiku?"

"I could," the spirit said. "Doggie-san, perhaps if you did rest for a few hours, you would have the energy to reach the town that Fairy-ciano saw. We do have a few hours until sunlight."

Ludwig, whose mind was more canine than man at this point, answered by giving a gruff syllable and lying down on the grass. He put his head between his hands and curled up into a ball.

"Aww, that's so cute! He's acting like a little doggie!" The fairy mused.

"His instincts must have overtaken him," Kiku said.

Ludwig's face gave a painful attempt at going back to a stoic expression. "Not… quite yet, but mostly," he growled. "Go to sleep, Feliciano."

"Yes, sir!" He squealed earnestly. He whipped out a blanket from his belongings and stretched out on it. His wings relaxed, and he let out a great yawn before closing his eyes and setting his head down on a wad of blanket used as a makeshift pillow.

Ludwig gave a dog's version of a smile. He remembered Gilbert bending down over the fairy like he was a treasure to wipe dust off of. He wondered how Gilbert would have fared against the demon in the woods. He probably would have changed into an eagle and tried to claw up the demon's face with his golden talons. He'd be right in range for an icy spout from his mouth.

The last vestiges of Ludwig's consciousness lingered. His dog self desperately needed sleep. He lay his head down and gave a groan of comfort. The fairy giggled where he lay.

Ludwig was only ten minutes into his slumber when the scent filled his nostrils. It was the same one that had been following him all night long, and his canine mind finally knew what it smelled like. It was Master Gilbert.

He brought his head up and glanced around. Where was his master? Had he come to pet him? His tongue lolled out of his mouth in anticipation, but Gilbert was nowhere to be seen. Why did he smell him, then?

"Agh, ooh, that smarts. Think I found it, though." It was the smallest of voices, but Ludwig's ears told him exactly who it was. The wingy friend was not on his blankets. He was kneeling in the trees in front of a large bag and muttering to himself. In a curious way, Master Gilbert's scent was also streaming from his direction.

He got up on all fours and padded over to where the wingy was kneeling. Ludwig gave a look of confusion. The fairy was rubbing his hand. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding. Wait, no they weren't. No blood smeared as he rubbed them. It wasn't blood, but a deep red glow, as if his skin were hot iron. A pair of scissors was lying on the ground next to him. They had fallen out of a pocket on the bag.

There was something definitely not right about this. Ludwig didn't know why, but he was sure Feliciano's hand should not have been glowing like that. And the scent of Master Gilbert was heavy on him. Then, he realized that it wasn't entirely Gilbert's scent. It was similar, but not the same. Ludwig realized that this scent was entirely unknown. The wingy did not smell like the wingy. He smelled like a stranger, and the stranger smelled like Gilbert.

" _He's not really… he's a… he's trying to..."_ His internal master was utterly confused, but Ludwig could not understand what he was trying to say whether he was confused or not. He only soon realized that his internal master also recognized this strangely-scented wingy as a stranger, and the stranger had just pulled the dream wand out of the bag.

He lunged forward and grabbed the stranger by the back of his shirt. He pulled him back and threw him aside, still with the wand clutched tightly. His eyes grew wide. Ludwig put a front paw on his chest and pressed down. The fairy's wings folded out beneath him, and he winced. The dog-man bared his teeth and barked furiously. The stranger looked terrified. He still held onto the wand and breathed hard.

"Doggie-san! What are you doing to Fairy-ciano?" The spirit entered from the side. Ludwig turned his teeth up and barked at him. Strings of saliva flew from his angry maw.

He looked down again and brought his muzzle close to the wingy stranger's face. Then, his maw moved strangely, and in a deep, savage voice issuing from he knew not where, he snarled, " _rrrereveal yourrrrself, changeling."_

"You must stop, Doggie-san!" The spirit commanded. He started performing a strange dance of grasping for something at his side, which only turned more frantic the more times he did it.

Ludwig's front paw suddenly rippled under him. A squishing and snapping came from below. He looked to see the wingy staring up at him like he was in a trance. His eyes melted from gold to a vivid blue. His ears stretched and sprouted fur. His body continued to swell with muscle, and Ludwig was finding it harder to keep his paw down on his expanding chest. A rip issued from his tightening shirt. Ludwig's claws poked through to the skin where fur was blossoming in great tufts. The stranger looked to where he gripped the wand. He tried to hold onto it as his hands curled and claws formed.

He took his other hand and pushed away at Ludwig's muzzle. A deep growling emerged from his throat. It sounded frighteningly like his own. This creature... was it becoming him?

" _Show yourrrself!"_ Ludwig roared.

"No, you… furry bastard," the other him growled. He thrust Ludwig off of him and swiped at his shoulder with his other paw-hand. He missed. Ludwig spun around and snapped at his copy. His teeth nearly missed the copy's ears.

The copy came at him with glorious fury. He threw his weight into Ludwig and pushed him down, throwing punches and nipping him in the already-damaged shoulder. Ludwig roared. He bit his oppressor hard on the arm, and he released, clutching it and snarling.

Then Ludwig was the one clawing at the copy's back. The copy howled and turned to kick away at him. The claws of his paw-feet dug into his chest and pinched as they poked through the skin. The copy was on him again and about to sink his teeth completely into the injured shoulder, but Ludwig, with a great amount of strength, elbowed him and pushed him away.

Then they were on their feet again, one coming at the other and trying to knock him off his feet. Ludwig found himself thrown into a tree and then into a patch of sharp thorns. The pain simply made him angrier. He got up and snapped at the copy, who used Ludwig's mindless savagery to knee him in the stomach and slash at his face.

Clearly, though, Ludwig was winning the battle. His copy was not coordinated on his feet and lacked any ability to properly balance himself. He kept hunching over to try and remain steady, which made him the perfect target for clawing at his shoulders. Once, he made the mistake of tilting his head to the side. Ludwig successfully clamped down on his ear and nicked a chunk. His copy howled and thrust his elbow up into Ludwig's jaw. Ludwig pushed the copy to the ground and stepped on his chest. He put his full weight on it and pressed down. His copy wheezed.

But his copy rolled suddenly to the side. he got up and began running into the trees. He clutched the wand carefully between his teeth. Ludwig bounded after him. He breathed hard, but he had to win this. After all, this shapeshifting creature was an intruder, and something told him that wand he was trying to steal was important.

On and on they ran deeper into the trees. His copy didn't even glance back. At once, he had spotted a climbable tree and was hoisting himself up onto the trunk with his claws. Ludwig bounded after him. His copy started struggling to get up the tree. His weight was hindering him. His claws kept slipping.

Something started to happen to his copy as he climbed. He started rapidly shrinking, and fur retreated from his back and shoulders. His ears started elongating. His muzzle pushed back into his face. The loss in weight allowed him to scramble up much faster into the branches. Unfortunately, Ludwig had reached the tree. He jumped and grabbed the remaining vestige of his copy's tail. He pulled hard. The creature, now pale in color and dangerously slim, let out a fearful screech as he slipped from his branch and fell. The wand dropped from his mouth. He landed on his back, and his movements slowed. He was losing consciousness.

A distant voice in Ludwig's mind screamed for him to not hurt the creature. It revealed itself. It was not dangerous anymore. It dropped the wand. It was the same kind of creature as Gilbert. Ludwig didn't listen. He slashed at the creature's face. Three shallow purplish gashes appeared in his right cheek. He lifted his paw again. Irrational ire built in his bones. The stars were not disappearing fast enough.

Then, Ludwig yelped. Something enormous had barrelled out of the trees. It reared on four powerful legs and thrust one of them onto the dog-man. The sharpest, most forceful thing Ludwig had ever felt suddenly jabbed him in the side. He felt himself flying backward and hitting the ground. He rolled in shock. He clutched at his side in not only pain, but utter bewilderment. He weakly raised his head to see what the animal was, but it was already quickly running back into the trees. The insensible changeling was gone with it.


	18. The Delusion of Feliciano

For one terrifying moment, Feliciano thought the snow demon had caught him.

He tensed and blinked madly. Something wet and freezing was running into his eyes and over his cheeks. He sniffed, and water shot up his nose. Soaking hair clung to his forehead. He shivered and gasped. "What? Oh, please! No! Don't hurt me!" He frantically tried to get up from wherever he lay, but someone coaxed him back down with a gentle hand.

"You're awake. I guess that's another instance when he wasn't lying. Good morning, Feliciano."

The fairy blinked more and rubbed the cold water from his eyes. The image of someone looming close to him came into focus. He had seen this man before. It was Sir Francis, who questioned him in Lafée when the changeling had been sighted. He looked a bit shabby now; his frizzed platinum hair held a fair amount of grease, and his stubble had grown into a short beard on his chin. Dark circles hung under his eyes from a lack of sleep. He gave a small smile at the fairy.

"Sir Francis?"

"It is me. I'm so sorry if you were scared. I was not planning such a violent endeavor, but my companions are not the best to work with. They wanted a big scheme to get you here."

Feliciano furrowed his brow in confusion. Other voices reached his ears. He could see now that he was sitting in a very soft patch of grass and moss under a sturdy oak. The sky was a deep, cloudy blue. The sun had not yet risen. There were at least three other voices in this camp. One was so familiar it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"I am not taking it off."

It was the creamy voice of the snow demon.

"Well, I can't heal you if I can't touch you, now can I? It'll only be a few minutes. You won't melt in that amount of time." This voice was lilting, yet stern and cutting.

"There is good hole in my coat. You heal me through that."

"It's not big enough for me to get my hand through it. Even if I did, it would be trapped in your freezer of a coat. My hand would go numb before I'd even get the chance to close that wound. Now, take it off, or you'll just have to have that open hole in your backside."

"I will not."

"Suit yourself, then."

"Sir Francis, there's a demon near here," Feliciano whispered harshly. He squirmed and tried to scrunch himself up even more against the tree. His wings parted on either side of the trunk.

"I know," Francis said. "I dearly hope he didn't scare you too much. His job was only to cause a disturbance."

"You know him? You… did you… are you _working_ with a demon, Sir Francis? Were you working with the demon that entered our camp?"

"Oh, that's lovely. Why don't you start him out on that topic," the stern voice said. "It was mostly Alfred's idea, anyway. I don't know why it had to be so elaborate."

"Who's Alfred?" Feliciano asked.

"Alfred is the changeling in your place," Francis said calmly.

Feliciano could practically feel the color draining out of his face. His hands felt cold and clammy. His heart began to race. For a few seconds, he just sat in shock at what he had just heard. He drew his breath in so fast he thought he would choke on air.

He then looked down at himself. Thankfully, he hadn't any cuts or bruises, but his clothes were very strange. A ripped shirt that was too long for him was draped over his torso. His pants felt baggy and probably would've fallen down without the belt. The thing keeping him warm from the early morning chill was a tailored leather jacket lined with wool. On its breast was a patch of an opalescent pentagram with several curved beams emitting from it. It rode up over his wings in the back. He gave a whine of despair when he felt for his laurel branch hair clip and didn't find it. The changeling had taken his clothes and swapped them with these, he imagined.

"Why the blazes did you tell him that!?" The stern voice yelled.

"What is the fault in telling him? It is only the truth."

"He's terrified of changelings, you dolt! It's only one of the first things we observed of him!"

"I've! I've been _swapped!?_ I've been swapped with a changeling!?" Feliciano started to rise. His wings quivered. He had to escape. There was a demon here. A changeling had taken his place. These people had kidnapped him, and Sir Francis was one of them! How was it possible? He didn't even care. He'd been swapped. No one knew what kind of horrors happened to the swapped. And there was a dark fairy pretending to be him elsewhere. It must have been the changeling with dark hair who chased him hours prior.

"Please calm down, Feliciano," Francis said soothingly.

"Why!? Why would you look for a changeling and then act so nice about one swapped with me? Why aren't you out looking for him if you know who he is? Are you a liar? Why am I here? Why was the changeling after me? Please don't let him hurt me! And you! You can't hurt me! I'm of noble blood!

"I speak kindly of him because Alfred is my… friend," Francis said to answer the first question although the last word sounded quite forced.

"How can a changeling be your friend?"

Someone sighed. "We only want to reveal to you some things you may not be aware of and inquire of you some valuable information." The one bearing the other voice approached. He was a wingless fairy with the thickest pair of eyebrows Feliciano had ever seen. He held himself with a pompous posture and crossed his arms at the sight of him. "Sit down, please," he said.

But Feliciano refused. "Tell me where I am! Tell me who you people are and why you say I've been swapped so casually!"

"If you stop your fit, we'll tell you who we are and why you're here."

"Alfred is in your place _because_ you are here. We wouldn't want to worry Ludwig by simply taking you," Francis explained.

"But _why_ did you take me? Were you the ones watching us? Was it you who made Kiku sleep? Was it the changeling — _Alfred —_ who ran out after I played my song?"

"Sit down, Feliciano."

"Are _you_ changelings?"

Francis grabbed his scissors from his belt, then handed them to the other fairy. Neither of them burned. "We are not," the fairy said. "And the man who chased you last night wasn't one either. I don't know what he told you, whether he was a changeling or a dark wizard or if he simply had dark magic, but it was a lie. He's actually our good friend, Yao. He never intended to actually hurt you, only chase you to us so Ludwig wouldn't suspect that a changeling was swapping himself with you. You're safe now."

"You never even met Alfred," Francis said.

"But why did he chase me? Why did you kidnap me and put a changeling in my place? Why were you spying on us?"

"We're getting to that," the fairy said irritably. He knit his brows and clenched his teeth at Feliciano's inquisitive nature. "Shall we introduce ourselves, Francis?"

"You already know me," Francis said.

"I'm not sure I really do," Feliciano whispered. He looked at the ground. He felt anxious to do something, anything, to escape this place, but perhaps there could be an ounce of good in it. These men were not changelings, and they hadn't yet tried to give him poison or bind him by his feet. Feliciano would never speak to a changeling. In fact, the very thought of one made him tense up and freeze his rapid gesticulations.

"Lord Arthur Kirkland of the Isle of Rain," the wingless fairy said assertively. He held out his hand, and Feliciano cautiously took it to shake. He thought about kissing him on the cheeks, but decided not to risk it. "So you see," Arthur was saying, "I am also of noble blood. I clearly wouldn't hurt a fellow nobleman. Now please, please sit down. You're going to hear some things that might not sit well with you."

Slowly, Feliciano obeyed. He sat comfortably on the grass and looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was secretly spying on him with these men. Then he turned back to face Arthur, who had also knelt, and Francis, who was looking distraught at the already apparent grass stains on his pants.

"About a week ago, a gathering was held in Lafée concerning you," Francis said.

"Me?"

"You were mentioned in a letter." Francis pulled a swallow seal letter from his pocket. "This might not make much sense to you at first, but we believe it to be truthful. You are in danger, Feliciano of the House of Roma. Your companion is deceiving you."

"Please read this, and if you recognize the handwriting or voice of it, do tell us." Arthur added.

Feliciano took the letter from Francis and unfurled it. He read through it silently, then read it again. He read it a third time, and it still didn't make any sense. This was a simple pack of lies and outlandish accusations.

"Lies," he said plainly.

"We are sure it is not a lie," Francis said. "To clarify, at least four royal courts and an esteemed school in Scintillatia received this letter via a prestigious enchanted eagle. Each was hastily written. We've been trying to find you to give it to you and tell you to take caution."

"It's not true, though. It's a lie," the fairy repeated. "Doggie's brother isn't a dark wizard. He's a collector of magical artifacts. He doesn't sound like anyone's enemy."

"So he says to deceive you," Francis said.

"He's not deceiving me! And Doggie's not _stealing_ the amulet from me. I'm giving it to him once we find it."

"You're giving it to him?" Arthur asked. "But isn't it from your family? We know the wand is, but surely the amulet also belongs to the House of Roma?"

"Feliciano shrugged. "It's my inheritance, but I'm giving it to him out of the goodness of my heart."

"Oh, Feli…" Francis said, as if gently scolding a child.

"How has he convinced you to give your inheritance to him?" Arthur asked. "You barely know him. How can you trust a near-stranger with something that powerful? You don't know what he'll use it for."

"I agreed to give it to him."

"But _why?"_

"I just have." He strained his mind to give a better answer, but the truth was, he could not think of a reason why he had agreed to give it to Doggie, or remember Doggie even asking for it. He simply knew in his deepest heart that he'd agreed to give it to him, and he was okay with that outcome. That was the utter truth. And anyone who tried to convince him otherwise…

"Why are you lying to me?"

"We are not lying," Arthur forced. He gripped the grass and pulled out a handful.

"We met on a note of utmost seriousness, Feliciano, and for your protection, we advise you to no longer have any business with Ludwig of Volkerburg," Francis said.

"If you still want your amulet, we can take you to the capital of Amotoile," Arthur said. "It is your inheritance. We want it to go to the person who it rightfully belongs to. We'll give you protection. Francis is a knight of Amotoile. We will extract Alfred from your place if you come with us."

"We never meant it to look like we were spying on you. There have just been little instances where we got a little too close to your camp. Alfred wanted to listen to your music. He didn't know you were playing a light, er, frequency," Francis said. "He was caught off guard. And the two men who entered your camp the night before that were Arthur and Alfred. They, em, well, they _were_ spying on you that time."

"Indeed," said Arthur with a slight frown. "But let us relate you to the business at hand. Last night's terror was only a diversion so we could safely swap you with Alfred and take you into our care. You are safe now. Trust us as your friends. We will take you to the capital and help you to find your inheritance."

"You're not my friends," Feliciano said with an edge in his voice. "You're liars. You've been spying on us. You put a changeling in my place. You sent a demon into our camp and chased me away. You're trying to antagonize my real friends. _You're_ deceiving me!" He started trembling again. These people were not to be trusted in any sense of the word. They were liars. He did not listen to those who opposed Doggie. He ignored their warnings.

"Don't be irrational, Feliciano! We've traveled all this way to find you! We are dead serious that giving that amulet to Ludwig could have dire repercussions!" Arthur scolded.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Feliciano retorted. His voice shook just as much as his body. "You're wicked people!" He lifted his wings and threw down the changeling's jacket. "You lie," he kept whimpering. "You lie. Doggie's not deceiving me. I will not listen to you."

"But can't you see he's twisted your mind?" Arthur yelled. "He's got you on strings! He's playing you like a pawn! You're wrapped tightly around his finger!"

"I will not listen," Feliciano said. He jumped and rose twenty feet into the air on his wings.

He felt a force, then. It was strong and binding. His body was surrounded by a twinkling aura. He fluttered his wings harder, but he couldn't go forward. Down on the ground, Arthur had both hands outstretched, and each glowed a wicked emerald green.

Feliciano panicked. He struggled against the spell. His wings buzzed faster and faster. He cried out Doggie's name. Fresh fear pooled like cold water in his chest.

"Get down here!" Arthur shouted. "You haven't even told us who wrote the letter! At least tell us that! Then we'll let you go!" Feliciano felt the aura grow tighter around him. He was being pulled down. He strained his wings. His back ached, and he gasped for breath. "Doggie! Doggie help!"

"Please tell us who wrote the letter. You can go back to 'Doggie' then," Francis said. His voice was gentler than Arthur's exasperated tone.

"But _you_ wrote it! You wrote it to lie to me, didn't you?"

"We'll show you our handwriting if you need see it. Just have one look at the letter and tell us whom you think wrote it," Arthur said tersely.

Feliciano slowed his wings.

"There you go. Good lad. Come down and just have one more look at the letter." Arthur released his spell.

Unfortunately, this was a grave mistake. Feliciano, realizing that he was free of his magical bond, and realizing also that it would be useless to comply any further with the wishes of two liars and kidnappers, whizzed like a blur out of sight to try and find his dearly-missed companions.


	19. A Brother by Heart

Stomach-wrenching hunger was Alfred's first sensation. Terrible weakness of body was his second, and several throbbing pains were third.

Minus the pains, as those he knew were from falling out of the tree, Alfred had felt this way before. _This_ was the primal changeling sickness. He hadn't eaten in hours, and changing so often and so drastically without fuel now had him feeling too weak to move. The hunger pangs ached as they clawed up his insides. The air around him was so cold, and his toes were growing numb under its bite. _Transform or die._ That old, haunting mantra of infanthood returned after hibernating for so long in the depths of his mind. He absolutely hated it.

He had to transform just once more. He had to be stronger. He tried to become aware of himself. He was lying on his back with bare earth beneath him. Alfred felt for his right hand. With effort, he lifted it. He outstretched the fingers. He willed it to change and felt it grow. But this was different from usual. His fingers felt crushed like someone was stepping on them. His weakened magic couldn't keep up with numbing the alterations. The result was not pleasure, but pain.

A heat came over his face. He gave a shuddering groan of discomfort as it began to change. He felt the muscles shift and swell. His jaw compressed. His sharp teeth flattened. Suddenly, there was an especially painful tug in his right cheek. It was the site of one of the original sharp pains. Something poked into his flesh and left him yearning desperately for a speedy recovery.

"Don't do that, Alfred."

The voice from above was unfamiliar. It was not one of his companions, but a calm, soothing tenor quite similar to his own. His response was a soft, screechy whine.

"I know it hurts. You had quite a nasty fall. I saw you fall before that monster slashed your face. I'm almost done stitching you up."

Stitching? That was the poking sensation. But stitching meant needles, and needles were made of metal, and metal burned. Alfred internally screamed at his body to change. It responded so slowly and weakly. His ears felt pinched as they shrank. Tremendous pressure built on his bones, straining his limbs and spine. He felt what little energy he had drain away and wished desperately to stay conscious. To stay alive.

"Don't do that. Don't try to change. You'll hurt yourself even more. Just breathe." Then, he heard the sound of thread snapping. "There. I stitched up the biggest gash and washed your face and arms. The needle is bone, not iron, so I didn't burn you."

Alfred moaned. A few gashes in his face were the least of his worries. He tried opening his eyes. He saw a bright whiteness and shut them again. His head rolled to the side. He was sure he looked awful in a half-transformed state. Who even was this person? How did he know Alfred's name? Why was he not terrified?

Summoning feebly a bit of breath, he croaked, "Who are you?" His voice was airy.

The stranger did not speak. Instead, he felt warm, callused fingers open his left hand, and something soft and furry was laid on it. He tried to figure out what it meant. The fur was thick and slightly damp. He rubbed his thumb over the top of it. It was only skin and fur. _Beaver fur,_ said a voice of memory. This was a piece of beaver skin. Why beaver skin? Who had beaver skin?

"Open your eyes, Alfred."

He tried, but the gray sky of morning was so bright he had trouble keeping them open. Then, something blocked the sky. Alfred blinked. Above him was a humbly-smiling face with large, lilac-colored eyes magnified by the enormous lenses of a pince-nez perched on the nose. A shock of wavy, pale-amber hair reached almost to the stranger's chin. He saw that Alfred was looking at him and beamed. His broad teeth were too large to be human. Velvety brown ears stuck straight out from his hair and hung downward.

"H-hom… al…" Alfred stuttered.

"Homoalces. That's right."

 _Homoalces._ Dark silhouettes fogged Alfred's memory. They were huge and had four powerful legs each. Their bodies were packed with muscle. One stood out to him. It was a boy. A _calf._ He had lilac-colored eyes like the stranger. But he was so much younger than this stranger.

"Can't you recognize me? I-I mean, if you can't, that's okay. I said some really mean things to you. You won't ever know how sorry I am, and it really hurts. I suppose I haven't seen you in… seven years? I didn't have my paddles yet. You said they'd never grow, but I have them now. I just can't believe it. You're alive. I knew you by that star on your nose."

Alfred muttered. A word was forming in his mind. A name. Suddenly, the weakness and hunger abated in a bubble of realization and excitement. "Matt… Matthew? Mattie?"

Matthew nodded, seemingly overcome with the same euphoria.

"My _brother!?"_ Alfred screeched before a stabbing weakness caused him to curl up and clutch his tight, aching stomach. Moving even this much nearly knocked the wind out of him. He whimpered softly. "So... hungry..."

"Y-you're hungry? What do you eat? Tell me! You look so frail and sick!"

"Anything... I'll eat anything... I think I'm dying."

"I'll see what I've got." Matthew turned, and Alfred heard the sound of him rummaging through a bag. "I haven't got much for food in here. Hmm, oh, I think you liked those." Alfred closed his eyes. He heard a great animal shifting and heavy hooves around him. Something prickly was shoved between his lips. It was a chunk of pine bough. It was covered in something so sweet and sugary and sticky that the notion of seeing his long-lost brother warmed him from the inside out. This was maple syrup from the village of Dinsmoor in the Northern Wilds. He chewed slowly. The taste beneath the syrup was awful, and the needles pricked his tongue, but he needed sustenance, and a voice of long past told him that at one point in his life, he indeed had liked this.

Matthew continued to carefully help him eat. When he felt awake enough, and not quite as weak, he willed his body to continue its uncomfortable transformation into its acceptable form. His cheek kept tugging where it was stitched, but he started to feel a bit stronger.

Alfred finally had the strength to sit up and see his brother completely. This was indeed his brother, Matthew, but it was not the Matthew he remembered. Had it really been seven years? Seven years since he'd left Matthew's village? Seven years since he'd last gazed upon his brother's face and heard his voice? His voice had definitely changed. It was no longer high-pitched and barely heard.

And something else had changed, too: his size. Matthew had grown into a handsome bull. A pair of imposing paddled antlers adorned his head. His arms and chest were firm and full with muscle. His back sloped gracefully down until his human torso ended and transitioned into the robust, furry body of a fully-grown moose. A prominent hump rose on his back just beneath where human hips would be. He was ten feet tall from head to cloven hoof, and his antlers made him even taller.

"You're a giant moose-man!" Alfred mused.

"I guess I've grown since we last saw each other."

"You're _huge!_ How did you get so big? And your antlers! You've got antlers now!"

"I think they finally started to bud a year after you left," Matthew said. "Each year's pair is bigger. These are the biggest I've had. I just finished rubbing the velvet off not too long ago, actually. They feel nice and solid."

"Are they heavy?"

"They grew in little by little, so I'm used to them. Mine aren't as big as some back in Dinsmoor. Some of the calves you used to know are still taller than me."

This humble comment didn't make Alfred any less impressed by his brother's transformation. He grabbed more pine boughs and shoved them in his mouth, then smiled proudly up at Matthew. It had been seven years. Both of them had really changed.

Alfred unsteadily rose to his feet. His head swam with dizziness, but he walked with trembling legs and threw himself against Matthew's warm flank. He nuzzled his face into the fur.

"You smell like a moose."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Well, you _are_ one."

"Half, they say," Matthew said. "But I guess I'd rather smell like a moose than a human, eh? Humans don't smell like the outdoors enough."

"Mattie, what happened? Why are you here? How did you find me?"

Matthew gave a confused look. "I don't know how I found you, but I'll tell you why I'm in Amotoile. I'm an Elder Bull now, Alfred. I've come of age, and I've come to Amotoile because it's been my dream to see what it's like here. The other side of Dinsmoor Trading Post, where the humans live."

Alfred scoffed and petted his brother's back. "You're an Elder Bull, huh?" His voice was skeptical.

"Yes, I am," he replied.

"Well, what do they call you? Timid Matthew?"

" _Unseen Matthew,"_ his brother corrected. "My name is Unseen."

"Unseen?"

"I'm exceptionally quiet when hunting, and I can sneak up on others without a sound. No one can see me coming or going or notching an arrow, so I'm called Unseen."

"So the son of Wolfheart James is ' _Unseen Matthew?'"_ Alfred bit his lip to keep from laughing at the ludicrous comparison. He could hardly believe that the terribly shy and hopelessly polite calf was the son of the biggest bull in the village. Matthew hadn't even begun to grow his antlers before Alfred left. Now Matthew was an Elder Bull himself, and he was named not for fearlessness and determination like his father, but for his ability to remain _out_ of the spotlight. Unseen and unnoticed. Absolutely imperceptible.

Alfred loved his brother.

"My parents are quite proud of me. My father made me a new bow." Matthew gave a slightly saddened look toward Alfred. "I thought…"

"What?"

"I just… I never thought I'd see you again, and by some twist of fate, you're right here. It's really you."

"Aw, Mattie…"

"No, really. And… and it's been all this time, and we've grown up, and you've… well, you've kept yourself out of trouble, being a whatsit and all."

"A changeling."

"Yeah…" Matthew lowered his head. Alfred could tell this chance meeting was not dealing well on his brother's emotions. "And… the last thing I ever said to you… I told to leave and never come back… and I was angry. I screamed at you. I kicked you. You bruised so easily."

With some great effort, Alfred hoisted himself onto Matthew's furry back. He sat up and marveled at how high off the ground he was. He scooted forward and hugged his brother around his human shoulders. Something wet ran onto his fingers. Matthew rubbed his eyes and tried to force his head back up confidently and sniffling.

"Well, I'm not angry at you! You damn well just saved my life! You're my _brother!_ Brothers by heart, right? Isn't that what we agreed on when you took me in?"

Matthew looked over his shoulder at Alfred's dorky grin. He was mostly disguised now, and his own rounded face was still so much like his brother's. Another gush of tears flowed down from Matthew. "It's…"

"It's what? You can't tell me we're not brothers. I may be a deceitful creature by nature, but in every story I've ever fabricated, I've always had a brother who lived up north. _Always."_

"It's… I mean… I think it's so sweet that you still call me your brother after how I acted. You… you still remember me as someone special. I'm so sorry, Alfie. Unbelievably sorry. I was _horrible_ to you, and I forgot that we were brothers by heart, and I saw you as only a stranger, and I could only recognize your faults, and I was so scared, and I was so upset that you… you just..."

"Lied? Pretended to be a Homoalces for six years?" Alfred's voice was steady and held a strange edge of wisdom.

Matthew only nodded.

"Aw, I'm sorry too. If I would have told anyone about what I was, it would have been you first. I guess I was just a little scared, too, especially with those traders from the Isle of Rain lurking everywhere. You weren't horrible, Mattie. _They_ were. They were mean to everyone in Dinsmoor."

"We don't trade with that company anymore."

"Good. Everything okay? Don't cry, Mattie. What's there to be sad about? You just found me and saved me from the dog-man!"

"The _dog-man?_ Oh, maple, what _was_ that thing and why was it attacking you? I hope I didn't kill it. I thought I kicked it lightly, but I'm not sure I know my own strength against something smaller than me. I was trying to avoid the ribs."

"Why it attacked me is a loooong story," Alfred said, "but if you have no plans in Amotoile, you can take me back to camp where my companions are, and I'll tell you. We'll be reaching the capital in only a few days' time, so—"

"Few days!?" Matthew stuttered. "I only just _got_ to Amotoile. I left the ferry yesterday." He shifted his hooves. Alfred had to hold on as his back rippled smoothly. "You sure?"

"Well, when I had wings last night, I saw a town, and the road was getting wider. No seaports in sight. Did you get lost?"

"N-no! I swear I just got off the ferry! That's an easy memory. They nearly didn't let me on because of my size. Said they'd never even heard of a Homoalces wanting to ride a boat. We're good swimmers, you know, but not good enough to swim across the sea. So I just told 'em about my cause, right? They reluctantly let me on. I had to thank them profusely. One child had no idea what I even was."

"I do smell sea salt on you, but I haven't smelled the sea in a while."

"Well, that's sure strange."

"Don't worry about it! We've reunited!"

"Yeah," Matthew said, his voice a bit quavery. He bent his front legs and knelt to pick up a small shoulderbag which unfortunately contained the tattered remains of Alfred's shirt. It hadn't much use now, so Matthew had cut it away to wash out his wounds. "I, um, I don't mind you riding up there, but you might want to hold on. I can run pretty fast."

Alfred responded by grabbing his brother's shoulders firmly and gripping with his legs. "Y'know, Mattie, a saddle would be pretty neat."

Matthew sighed. "Yeah, leashes for fairies would be pretty neat, too, wouldn't they?"

"Totally!"

As they traveled, Alfred began to tell his story — from the time Dinsmoor was shaken with the knowledge that a changeling had been hiding with them to his escapade with the Mercs of the Messy Hand. He explained how he'd first traveled south and found himself in a land called Scintillatia, where a kindly older changeling recognized him and showed him the hidden culture of darkness.

Then, he explained how one fateful day, he had struck up a conversation with none other than the Dean of Magic while scouting a village for food. It was a modest affair. Alfred had simply been trying to bargain his way out of bewitching a storekeep. The Dean returned the following day, and miraculously, the unfortunate shack of Alfred's current residence had been filled with enough food for two feasts. (He finished it in the time of one.)

It was when the Dean invited him to dinner one night that Alfred learned some were trusting of changeling kind. After the sumptuous feast, Alfred was presented with a room upstairs containing the softest bed he had ever slept on and the most relaxing bath he had ever sat in. It was explained to him how a trained eye could see a changeling's habits, and if one looked too closely, see the Depth in its eyes. The Dean asked for him to stay and would turn a blind eye if he promised not to swap with any students or make mischief.

A year and a half he'd so far spent at the Academy, and despite all his cunning and cleverness with hiding his nature, whispers and rumors abounded. Alfred told his brother that everyday he felt a little more unhappy with the character he played. He had begun to lay awake at night wondering. Hallucinations swarmed him in the darkness of other changelings pleading him to come to his senses and be mischievous again. His excellent mind wasn't meant for civilized decorum. His body wasn't meant for remaining idle in tight, musty rooms contemplating a single detail until the candle had burned at both ends. He spent evenings relating to Tolys how easy it would be to leap from his bedroom window and find another skin to slip into. Another character to play. A new and exciting world to feel and see and hear. He was not swapped with anyone at the Academy. He was not tied down by that sacred responsibility, and freedom could be his at any time.

But love and care were his simplest weakness.

Then, the swallow seal letter had come, and at once the Dean related to the school board how Alfred was the perfect candidate for such a task. He told his tenant that his powers may prove necessary in such an endeavor, and while skeptical of the trust his companions may give him, Alfred hastily agreed to a change of scenery. However, the school board opposed of sending the student they _knew_ by this time was a changeling. That was an outlandish notion. They instead selected the Dean's own daughter to answer the call. Alfred's culminating enthusiasm burst, and he stole the letter, her ferry, and her would-be companions. Matthew was shocked it was even possible to be so impolite and scheming. Alfred just shrugged.

From there, he explained the ins and outs of his time with the Mercs and how one of them was clever enough to divulge his secret before he was ready to tell them. He spoke with great vigor about the plan he'd hatched to swap with Feliciano. Matthew scolded him for getting into such a dangerous position with the dog-man.

"And then I ran triumphantly with the wand in hand. Well, really between my teeth."

"And the dog-man chased you?"

"Right up a tree. And I still got away with help from my best bro. Except… I dropped the wand. You didn't pick that up, did you, Mattie? That reddish wand?"

"I didn't see it, no. I was a lot more concerned about you at the time. You could've died."

"I wonder what the others got out of Feliciano. Hopefully they were able to talk some sense into him."

"Where do you think we should go?" Matthew asked. They had reached the road now. No fresh footprints marked its damp dirt. A light sprinkle of rain started falling gracefully down to earth. Alfred shivered as cold trickled over his skin.

"Let's go back that way. My companions probably haven't left camp yet. Maybe they're having breakfast and talking to Feliciano. I'd do anything for Francis' cooking right about now. I forgot. Do you eat meat?"

"Of course I do. Five stomachs. Four "moose" and one "human." How much have you forgotten about me?"

"I haven't forgotten your _name,"_ Alfred said defensively. "And I can still look like you. I didn't forget what you looked like."

"A Homoalces' fairy twin," Matthew mused. He began a swift trot along the sodden path. Alfred clasped his hands together around Matthew's chest. His body moved with a robust rhythm. Each hoof hit the dirt with a powerful _smack,_ so chunks of mud flew up and stained the whitish fur of his lower legs.

"How fast can you go?" Alfred asked with a grin.

"You'd fly off," his brother said haughtily.

"Try me."

"You sure?"

" _Run."_

Matthew didn't reply. Alfred felt a jolt as his brother arched his human part forward. The smacking of mud increased, and Matthew's legs flew beneath him. The scenery became a shaking blur in a matter of seconds. Alfred squeezed as tightly as he could around Matthew's chest. He felt the vigorous beating of the smaller of Matthew's two hearts and braced himself for any rough patches in the road. Alfred soon felt as though he was hanging on for dear life. The rain pelted him in the face from such a speed.

Matthew turned his head and noticed Alfred was not faring well with staying on, so he slowed once again to a trot. He tucked flyaway hairs behind his large ears. When he tipped his head forward, rainwater that had pooled in his paddles splashed down onto his face.

Alfred started to recognize the area when they passed the tree with the X. He told Matthew the direction of the camp and suddenly felt a surge of the senses telling him decent food was nearby. Indeed, a wispy stream of smoke was rising into the sky from a fire. With it came voices. Some sounded quite perturbed.

"Does that sound like your companions?" Matthew asked softly.

"That would be them," Alfred replied. "The extra colorful language is Artie."

They stopped just outside the trees where the Mercs were gathered. They had not yet left, and Francis was cooking something so mouth-watering that Alfred started feeling weak again. A magical sort of umbrella created by Arthur was keeping the fire and its patrons from becoming drenched. "Come on. I'll introduce you."

Alfred stepped in unnoticed to where Arthur and Francis were in the midst of what looked to be a vicious argument.

"It's not my fault he got away!"

"Of course it is! You had to scare him with your crazy magic! He felt trapped!"

"I only prevented him from flying away! It's not like I choked him or paralyzed him!"

"You were not gentle enough! You had no patience!"

"Boy, am I starving!" Alfred exclaimed. Both men jumped at his presence.

"Alfred! What are you doing here!? We haven't called you back, yet!" Arthur shouted.

"Why are there stitches in your face?" Yao asked.

"Did he get back to you? Feliciano?"

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked.

"He escaped. He wouldn't believe a word we told him and fled. He said we were liars," Francis explained sadly.

Instead of disappointment, Alfred only showed a plain look of understanding. His thoughts were far more occupied with the excitement of his reunion. "Huh. That's too bad. I guess I'm lucky I got away, then. I tell you, he fought well and hard, but he couldn't kill _this_ changeling!" He jabbed a thumb at his chest.

"A-Alfred… Did you _fight_ the dog-man!?" Arthur scolded. "I told you not to engage in battle with him!"

"Um, yeah, about that… he was pinning me down. Of _course_ I fought him. I need a lot more practice with being big, though."

"Why did he do that?" Asked Yao with his eyes full of interest.

"You guys'll never believe this, but he had the actual wand with him. I tried to steal it, but he caught me. I must've made too much noise when my hand brushed a pair of scissors in his bag." Alfred flashed a bright smile. "But enough about the dog-man. You'll _never guess_ who showed up to rescue me!"

"Rescue you? How much danger were you in?" Francis asked, putting a hand on Alfred's shoulder.

Alfred only ignored this. He instead looked toward the trees. "Come on in, Mattie! They're nice, I swear!"

Shyly and without a sound, Matthew slipped from the greenery into camp. Alfred rushed to his side and immediately began to swoon. "This is my _brother,_ Matthew! The one I told you about! Isn't he great? He's a giant moose-man, uh, Homoalces! Half moose, half human, that's it! We're like twins, aren't we? 'Course, he's a lot bigger!"

"Um, hello," Matthew squeaked. "I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm Unseen Matthew of Dinsmoor, and—" He suddenly stopped. Alfred looked up at him expectantly, but Matthew didn't look down. Instead, he had locked his gaze with someone else in the camp — Francis. They stared at each other in a mixture of shock and bewilderment. Alfred looked between their faces, but could not understand how such a connection was being made.

Suddenly, Francis said something very quickly in the language of Amotoile, and Matthew hastily replied with perfect accuracy. The two of them smiled with great excitement, and Matthew stepped forward to where the human stood. He was easily almost twice his height. The top of Francis' head barely reached Matthew's furry back.

The changeling broke the strange silence that consumed the camp. "Uh, do you guys, uh, know each other?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Matthew squealed with delight."Why didn't you tell me it was _the_ Francis whom you were traveling with?" Francis Bonnefoy!"

"Um, _the_ Francis?"

"It's _Francis,_ Alfie!"

"Well, yeah, of course it's Francis. I told you that on the way here. What's special about him?"

Matthew seemed suddenly peeved. " _Francis,"_ he forced.

"Yes? And?"

"Oh, Alfred, it's _Francis._ When we were calves, I wouldn't shut _up_ about him! He was my favorite trader before you came! Worked for the Élan Company! He was like a second father to me! How could you possibly forget?"

"Before Alfred came?" Francis asked. "I'm… I'm a bit interested in this story."

"As am I," said Arthur. "This is really the brother you spoke of, Alfred? A Homoalces?"

Alfred nodded vigorously. "He _is!_ What did you think he was? I said I've been to the Northern Wilds. That's his _home."_

Francis faltered. He returned his gaze to Matthew and studied his great antlers. His eyes flashed from brother to brother, and he started to see the uncanny similarities in their faces. "Matthieu, is he really? Do… do you know what he is?" The last word was a mere whisper.

"I learned, yes," Matthew replied gravely. "He left on the same day."

"And you were the brother who told him to evict himself? Brave one, you are," Arthur said cheekily.

Matthew gasped. "No! I-I didn't mean to! I didn't want him to go! I didn't mean it!" He stepped back and hung his head.

"Hey! Don't be an ass to him!" Alfred retorted. He narrowed his eyes at the fairy. _He's totally scared of me, the liar,_ he thought with a furtive smile. "So, Mattie, these are the Mercs o' the Messy Hand. Come in, will you? Don't mind Artie. His country hates me. Doesn't mean he can't respect people." He glanced at Arthur again and mouthed _behave, or else._ Arthur bit his lip.

"I have never seen a creature like you before," Yao remarked. "You would not mind if I pet you, would you?"

"Go ahead," Matthew said at a whisper. Yao began to stroke his fur with interest.

"I have never met someone bigger than me," said Ivan.

"Come and get some breakfast, Alfred," Francis said. "We have decided to take today slowly."

"We thought you'd find your way back," Yao said. "Feliciano was flying back to find his friends."

"Francis made the mistake of telling him about the swapping situation," said Arthur.

"It was not a mistake. You told him as well," Francis retorted.

"He didn't like that, eh? Figures," Alfred chuckled. He then said something incomprehensible with his mouth full of bacon. The last of his features shifted into place.

"You must tell me. Why are you here in Amotoile?" Francis asked. Matthew bent down so his moose half was lying comfortably.

Matthew gave his old friend a smile. "I've come of age," he replied. "I'm old enough to make journeys on my own, so I decided to come here. You always made it sound so beautiful. I thought I would find you eventually, but not this quickly. Alfred says we're close to the capital, and I swore I just got off the ferry yesterday."

"We are quite close. Oh, but you came here after all these years to find me? I am touched. How long has it been?"

"Well, Alfred's been gone for seven years, and, hmm, how long did you stay with us? Six years? Thirteen years, then."

"Thirteen? I was a young man, then," Francis said. "Of course, I am still young, but it was a long time ago when I regularly visited Dinsmoor."

"Were you something like this, Alfred? Did you transform into one?" Yao asked with eyes glittering.

"I was one, yeah. I lived as a sort of adopted brother to Mattie. We were brothers by heart."

"Why is it that you say Matthew is not a swap-child? I still don't understand that part of it," Arthur said. "If you made yourself look like him—"

" _Similar,_ Alfred corrected. "I made myself look similar to him. Similar enough that I guess he could have been a swap-child, but different enough so we obviously weren't the same at second glance. I never swapped with him. I've told you that."

"How did you even get into his family in the first place, then?"

"I fell and broke my leg. I landed on it funny, and changelings are cursed with brittle bones. Mattie was the first Homoalces I saw when I screamed for help, so I transformed into him. Transformation can't heal, though. Only change. I couldn't be him in a time of crisis, so I let myself slip back a little bit before he could see me. Bluer eyes and straighter hair that became gold in the summer."

"So _that's_ what happened," Matthew said. "You broke your leg when you were in a fairy's shape."

"I did. And you helped me anyway, so I just decided to stay. I was strong and healthy and cared for as a Homoalces. No one ever suspected I was magical, but it was weird that I looked just like Mattie."

"You told us a bear hurt you and separated you from your mother," Matthew said. Some of the shuddering from his earlier upset resurfaced in his voice. "I never knew. I never knew."

"You know the truth now."

"How did you find out he was a changeling?" Francis asked. "And this was all after I left to begin my knight's training?"

"Must've been all after that," Alfred said. "I never met you when I lived in Dinsmoor, but now that I think about it, I do remember Mattie obsessing over you a little bit."

At the former question, Matthew became strangely silent. He turned his head and looked at the ground.

"What's wrong, Mattie?"

"How they found out you were a... a changeling."

"Oh. Yeah, that was pretty scary. Scary for both of us, I bet. I'd call it the worst day of my life, that's for sure. Not because of you, of course."

"You don't have to tell me, Matthieu. I just never knew what happened in Dinsmoor after I left. Now I know that… Alfred and I are… connected." The knight frowned, but forced a smile at Alfred's shining grin. If his little Matthieu had been Alfred's swap-child, he would have burned him up whether it was his choice to swap or not.

"Second father and your brother by heart in the same day!" Alfred exclaimed. "This is crazy!"

Matthew turned to his brother. His eyes were full of tears again, but they were true tears of happiness. "Crazy _wonderful,"_ he said.

"Oh, hell yeah! Greatest day of your life _and_ mine! I'd say it was a _miracle_ we all crossed paths!"

"A miracle," Matthew echoed.

"Alfred's _brother,"_ Arthur muttered in disbelief.

It was Matthew's turn to tell his tale. He spoke fondly of the brotherly friendship he formed with the orphaned calf called Alfred. Matthew realized while explaining this bit that the first time he'd met Alfred, he was stitching him up, just as their reunion had unfolded. It was Matthew who taught Alfred, (unknowingly,) what it was like to be a Homoalces. Matthew showed him how to make a bow strong so it wouldn't snap, and Alfred taught him, (or at least tried to teach him,) how to whistle just like the birds he was hunting to attract them.

They grew older, and Matthew told how Alfred grew more obstreperous and defiant as he aged. He was not only growing into a bull, but also into a sharp-witted and mischievous adult changeling. He had been ecstatic when he first noticed the nubs of antlers sprouting from his head. He showed them to Matthew and teased him mercilessly about his lack.

And then came the part about Alfred's expulsion from Dinsmoor. Matthew did not want to talk about this, and Alfred said frankly that he did not want to, either. It was too sad and negative a subject for such a joyous day as the one when the brothers reunited.

After Alfred had left, Matthew explained how he had continued to help with the trading business at the Post. He helped to hunt for fur and meat and began mentoring younger calves and teaching them how to hunt, treat wounds, and build the giant cabins where they resided. Matthew said it was a funny thing to be a Homoalces. It seemed that they were born mostly human and grew up to be mostly moose.

As Matthew matured into a bull, his antlers finally took their place on his head, his eyesight dimmed considerably, and he was able to make a loud bellowing sound from deep in his chest. His muscles filled out nicely, and he grew ever taller until the ground was a sort of "funny myth." His fur crept up to cover him in more and more places. Then, when he had shed his antlers three times and proved himself as adept, he was ready to become an "Elder Bull." He traversed the Northern Wilds for their western mountains' grandeur, and after two years, decided to finally come to Amotoile and seek out Sir Francis.

When he had finished with his story, no additional plans were made for the day. It was decided despite the urgency of the cause that Ludwig, Feliciano, and Kiku had been pestered enough. Alfred pleaded Matthew to allow him a ride in the afternoon, and they came back two hours later soaking wet and full of mirth. Francis then took the time to tell Matthew how he had gone back to Amotoile and became a knight who defended the good people of the country. Arthur, for the day, kept his nose out of anyone's business and instead studied out of the books he had brought with. Alfred figured it was due to a small fear of him. He grinned mischievously.

* * *

The firelight flickered friendily in the night. Stars were glittering above, and all except Alfred were asleep. Matthew slept with his moose half lying down and his human half straight up with his head resting on his shoulder. It was a compromise for the way his form was built. Alfred lay against his brother's warm flank. He pondered his day. It was the most eventful he had yet experienced on this escapade. He had finally found Matthew again, (or Matthew had found him.) Who found who was inconsequential. They had found each other at last.

It was like Alfred said. A miracle. A strange yet wonderful miracle.

"Hey, Alfie? Are you awake?" It was Matthew from above.

"Yeah."

"No one else is, right? I can't see too well in the dark."

"No one else is, no."

"Alfie… I have to tell you something."

"What is it?"

Matthew hesitated. Then, he said very quickly, "They were going to let you stay."

"Who was?" Alfred yawned.

"They were going to let you stay in Dinsmoor. The Elders of Dinsmoor thought that since you hadn't harmed anyone and you hadn't tried to swap with me, they were going to let you stay with us in the shape of a Homoalces."

"Wow." Alfred's eyes widened. He looked up at his brother's worried expression. "That's kinda shocking. Think of what it would be like if we grew into bulls together. Maybe we'd even still be in this same place right now because we'd go together to look for Francis."

"But you don't understand, Alfred. It's my fault that it didn't happen. My father told me to go to bed when the meeting about what to do with you was getting long, but I didn't. I went to where you were waiting. I thought they were going to kick you out. I thought they would chase you over the edge of the earth and I'd never see you again anyway, or, or they'd jab you with their antlers or something stupid and childish like that.

"So, I told you to leave. I yelled and kicked you and screamed at you to go. I was so incredibly angry at you and scared of what you might have done if you decided to swap with me, but at the same time, I really wanted you to be safe. You were my brother by heart. I learned the next morning that they were going to let you stay, but I… I _lied,_ and I told them that you had already run away by yourself with none of my influence. I looked for you for days and weeks. I said I was going hunting, but I was out looking for you and hoping that you were in reach. But I could never find you. I felt so _horrible_ about what I did. I swore I would never forgive myself."

Alfred let the confession sink in. This was something he would have never expected. Matthew had acted on impulse. He had been both hurtful and helpful to Alfred even though his help was completely unnecessary in the end. He was unsure of what to think. All he knew was that Matthew felt so weighed down by his actions, and he had missed seven years of life with his brother because of one small decision and a lot of hurt. Matthew sniffled in the darkness.

"It's okay. I've made a lot of friends because I left. I learned some useful skills, too. Dark magic charms and spells that I never would've learned without leaving Dinsmoor. I've learned what it means to be a changeling. It's what I really am."

"But… but you don't like that school you go to."

"Aw, that's just because of my nature. It's kinna boring being around people you can't mess with or you'll 'get in trouble.' I don't like how I can't cause mischief or act the way I want to. It feels degrading. Yeah, some have figured out what I am and react to it, but I can't do anything about it. I can't tease 'em or charm 'em or threaten to swap with 'em or the Dean'll get mad. It's not like I'd actually hurt 'em. Something about it just seems really _funny_ to me. I do like living with the Dean, though. It's like I said earlier. If you show a changeling enough kindness and give him a lot of food, he'll never want to leave. And I'm sure that truly happy changelings are almost decent people."

"So, if you lived with me, would you be happy?"

"Mattie, of course I'd be happy. Why wouldn't I be? But, well, I'm just saying that I'm glad I got to experience time out of Dinsmoor. I don't know. I feel like because I left, I really embraced my true self. I feel like I've gotten to experience something swapped changelings don't. They've got families, and they have an important responsibility being a part of those families. They've never been wild. I don't have a family. I did for a while, but things happened. I'm okay. We're together, now. It's like we never separated at all."

"You're pretty wise for someone who gets into fights with raging dog-men."

"Yeah, well, you know something? And this is going to shock you, but changelings are born really smart, and we grow super fast. You know when you took me in? I was only a baby."

"Alfred, are you sure? That would mean…"

"I'm thirteen."

"That _is_ a bit unnerving. You look and act so much older, even in your true form."

Alfred grinned impishly up at his brother. His eyes shown with a wicked gleam. "Told you I'm smart. You can _not_ tell Arthur, though. He'll absolutely flip."

"Got it. So, you're happy? You don't care that you could've grown up with me? You don't care that I was mean and—"

"Not at all, my bro."

Matthew seemed satisfied with this answer. With the onerous weight of guilt off his shoulders, he gave a sigh and put his head back down. "Goodnight, Alfie."

"Goodnight, brother by heart."

Alfred did not fall asleep, though. He lay awake ruminating on something very difficult. It was as if Matthew's guilt had rained upon his own shoulders. Alfred had told another lie to his brother that day. He did not break his leg and enter into Dinsmoor's care by falling and landing on brittle bones. His leg had already transformed into that of a moose. Alfred had broken his leg by driving a stone into it.

The same stone he had almost used to kill Matthew and steal his life.


	20. Aware of the Danger

"Tell me more," Ludwig said. He continued clutching his hastily-wrapped side and clenching his teeth in pain. Feliciano had managed to heal where the hoof had punctured to a point, but in the madness of returning to find his friend hurt, he had forgotten a part of his healing song, and the wound still throbbed and leaked from the small slit it had been reduced to.

"I — I still can't believe it," Feliciano started. "Sir Francis… he was there. He was with them. He admitted he was working with the demon and the changeling. Then there was that other fairy, and he was horrible. He wouldn't let me fly away. Oh, please don't die, Doggie!"

"I'm not dying!" Ludwig retorted. "If only this road wasn't so bumpy."

The trio had been fortunate enough to encounter a cart coming down the road heading to the nearest town. Seeing as Ludwig was injured and Feliciano shaken with his experience of the morning, they hitched a ride on the low trailer. Kiku was the only one not affected by its jostling nature. He simply sat on the end and pretended that gripping the wood with his translucent hands kept him on. Ludwig was unsure just how Kiku was able to sit on a moving trailer and be swept along with it. Perhaps he was floating at the same speed as the trailer.

Ludwig turned his sharp eyes back on the fairy. Despite becoming human again, his nose and jaw still showed scabs where he'd been grabbed by the demon. Claw marks from the changeling marked his arms. His hair was in complete disarray. "They all admitted to being part of one group? And they were after the amulet?"

"Not after the amulet specifically. They just wanted me to stop working with you. They kept telling these lies about how your awesome brother Gilbert is a dark wizard. They kept telling me to sit down and accept the facts. I never believed them. I know you're not trying to deceive me. You're my friend."

"And the one who chased you last night?"

Feliciano shuddered. "They said he was just a human, but I could've sworn he was a changeling when he was chasing me. I figured he was. He told me he had dark magic, so I put my facts together, and by that time, I was so scared that… well… I don't know what happened. I just felt like I… I seized up. The next thing I knew, there was cold water running down my face, and Sir Francis was there, and I heard the demon's voice in the distance. They had their own camp set up. They told me there was a changeling in my place."

"Interesting," Ludwig said. It was clear now. All of Gilbert's meddling with Feliciano's mind was in effect. He was grateful that he and his brother were able to concoct such a clever way of bending the fairy to their will. If Gilbert hadn't visited, there was a chance that Feliciano might not have flown so fearfully back after this unknown group had him in their clutches. Still, what kind of group was this that followed them and knew about Gilbert's true profession? Did this group know Gilbert was a changeling, or did they just know of the dark wizard he made himself out to be?

"Feliciano, why do you think they would say Gilbert is a dark wizard?" He feigned a countenance of confusion.

"I don't know!" Feliciano said. "I don't know! They gave me this letter to read with really messy handwriting, and it said your brother is a dark wizard and you're conspiring to steal the amulet from me, but that didn't make any sense because I know Gilbert's not actually a dark wizard, (that's just outlandish,) and I've already agreed to give you the amulet when we find it. It's completely fair. I _told_ them that, but they wouldn't listen. They just said you were lying to me. They didn't realize that _they_ were the ones lying."

"You said it was Sir Francis? The knight of Amotoile?"

"Yes, and the other man I saw while I was there was a lord from the Isle of Rain. A wingless fairy named Arthur. Then I heard the demon, but I didn't hear the other man who chased me last night, so then I was even more confused when they told me he was just a human because he wasn't there, and so he must have been the changeling. But they said I never met the changeling, so I'm confused as to how the changeling even got me to copy me. Can changelings turn invisible? Did they knock me out? Someone must have knocked me out, or I wouldn't have woken up. Oh, I've heard stories of changelings who nab people in the middle of the night when they're sleeping, especially tiny little defenseless babies. Doggie... was it really a changeling? I mean, did he really look just like me and act just like me?" His eyebrows raised with worry, and his wings started to quiver. He gave a huff of frustration and distress.

Ludwig sighed. "Yes, Feliciano. He did. He fooled both of us into thinking he was you. Now that I think about it, I should have seen the signs. There are several things a changeling can't hide, and scent is one of them. With my heightened sense of smell, I should have been able to figure him out easier. He smelled nothing like you though his clothes did. That was probably what confused me. It was not until I was in my wild state when I finally learned of his true nature. The alien scent on him was very strong, and burns appeared on his hands when he found my scissors. They fell out of the bag and he avoided looking at them as if the very sight of them would kill him. He was trying to steal the wand."

"He tried to steal the wand!?"

"Indeed. I caught him. I've got the wand back though it has some bite marks. It fell out of his mouth when I pulled him out of that tree, and luckily your hair clip fell with it. It was hanging on by just a hair."

Feliciano rubbed his precious clip. "Terrible, terrible creature," he muttered. "They told me his name was Alfred. I think that's a pretty strange name for a changeling. Maybe they lied about that, too."

"We can't be too sure. Anyone named Alfred we will be sure to not associate with," Ludwig said gravely.

"Did you see him, Kiku? Did Alfred fool you?"

"He did," said Kiku. I cannot smell like Doggie-san can. He acted in a way like you would act, and he spoke like you would. He complained that he was tired and hungry in the same whiny voice that you have."

"Another sign," Ludwig said. "Intense hunger."

"I would've probably been hungry, though," Feliciano whimpered. "I'm hungry now. And… and you saw him change his shape?"

"I had him pinned to the ground after seeing the burns appear on his hand. He turned into me and fought me. I nearly had him, but he fled. He changed back into a dark fairy's shape then. He climbed a tree, and I pulled him down. I…"

"That is when you were attacked, Doggie-san?"

"Yes," he said tersely.

"What did it look like, again? It had hooves?"

"Split hooves," Ludwig said. "It had split hooves and a brown body, but it was much too large to be a deer. It was so fast that I never even saw was it was. I was blinded by rage. When I looked back, the changeling was gone. I think the animal, whatever it was, took him with it back into the forest."

"How could it have carried him?" The fairy asked with interest.

Ludwig looked puzzled. He contemplated such an intriguing question. His vision of the animal had been so brief and sudden that thinking about it made his head hurt, and even more pressing, it made his heart hang heavy in guilt. He felt indebted to the animal. He felt so grateful that it had been there to kick him out of the way even though he knew not what the animal was going to do with the changeling. Ludwig surely would have dispatched the changeling entirely if it had not been for the hoofed one. Such a notion was so heart-wrenching he had to fight to keep a straight face. The changeling's last terrified shriek before it hit the ground echoed accusingly in his memory. He tried not to blame himself. He blamed it on his wild mind, then he inevitably blamed it on himself again. Then he blamed it on himself for trespassing onto Basch's land, and he blamed Basch for being what he was. A sense of sad but powerful longing arose once again for Feliciano's amulet. He could rid himself of the dreadful curse forever and ever with a simple wish. It could all be so simple, but these people — including that changeling — were just making it harder and harder.

"I think I remembered another part of that song," Feliciano suddenly said. He strummed his lute and sat down next to his hurting companion. He played an intricate melody consisting of runs up and down multiple scales and sang a few words in Allegrian along the lines of " _Ease the pain; make it whole."_ Ludwig tried not to wince as his flesh continued knitting together again with a hot, stinging feeling. Feliciano gave a great squeal of joy when the wrappings were taken away and the hole from the hoof had completely vanished.

"Thank you," Ludwig said softly. He flashed the shortest of smiles to his friend and continued contemplating his gratitude toward the unknown animal and his rising annoyance toward the group who knew Gilbert was a dark wizard. They had tried to steal the wand. They must have been serious.

Sir Francis had said he was meeting a group in Lafée. The same day, he questioned Feliciano. Ludwig knew not the contents of that conversation, but Francis made it sound like it was about the changeling that terrorized the town the previous night. Then there was another changeling sighting which Francis earnestly rushed off to handle. In some way, whether for them or against them, he was associated with changelings.

"What did Sir Francis ask you about when we were in Lafée that day?" He asked.

"Well, he started by asking me about the changeling sighting, but… wait a minute, he didn't ask me anything about changelings at all! He was asking about _you,_ Doggie. He was asking about you and Gilbert. _Awesome_ Gilbert, I should say."

"What was he asking?"

"He asked where you were from, and he seemed very interested when I mentioned you had a brother, and then… then he was unrolling something for me to look at. It must have been the same letter they showed me this morning! The group following us has faith in that letter with messy handwriting! I don't know who wrote it though. That's the thing. Someone did. Someone wrote a letter saying they know me and that Gilbert is a dark wizard. I thought it wasn't real. I thought the group just wrote it to deceive me, but if Sir Francis had it back then…"

"They have surely been following us for that long," said Kiku lazily. "Such a letter is surely true for grown men to have faith in it and form a group to follow us. Do correct me if I am wrong."

"But Gilbert's not a dark wizard, and you're not lying to me, Doggie! Why would someone think that? Why would someone put a group together to stop me from traveling with you? It's all a lie. The letter even had a smudged signature. I don't think I could have told them who wrote it as much as they couldn't have known."

"Well, someone must not trust me," said Ludwig. "I can assure you that Gilbert is not a dark wizard. Perhaps someone thought because he collects magical artifacts, he must use them for some malicious activity."

"It's not true, though. Why can't they check their facts? Why did they have to put a changeling in my place and try to steal the wand?"

"Perhaps if you had stayed a bit longer, Fairy-ciano, you would have seen a bit more of their side," Kiku suggested.

"Nonsense! They were lying to me, and I knew that in the depths of my soul!"

Ludwig jerked. Gilbert's spell was potent. He wondered how it was to be undone. Would Gilbert simply put Feliciano in a trance again and make him say the opposite of earlier? Was there a simple countercharm? Gilbert had said the only way to break the spell was for the one who cast it to undo it. Ludwig definitely needed another time with his brother to speak of the latest developments in their journey. If he spotted any red-eyed eagles or raucous, smirking villagers or Wilhelm, he would immediately strike up a conversation.

"I just know it," Feliciano was muttering, "I know that anyone who tells me you're deceiving me isn't truthful. It's… it's not irrational, is it? I just know that that's the truth. It's true, isn't it? You're not lying to me."

"I am not," Ludwig said. "No matter what anyone says, my brother Gilbert is not a dark wizard."

It was more than less the truth, after all.

"Good," the fairy said. He reclined on his side in the trailer and stretched his wings to their full height. "And Kiku, what would they have to say to me that was any different?"

"Well, I was just thinking that if Alfred was trying to steal the wand, he could have brought it back to their camp and you could have met him. Then, maybe they would have a little more to tell you about their cause. Perhaps Alfred could have shown you that he was not malicious, and that he acted on your side even though this is clearly a lie. You did say earlier that they wanted you to travel with them to the capital, correct?"

"Yeah, they did say that."

"Well, maybe if you traveled to the capital with them, you could have seen if they truly intended to be against Doggie-san, (which inevitably is the case, for I feel perhaps in the same way you do that opposition to Doggie-san is not trustworthy,) and if they were, you could have met us there, and we could have found your amulet, and you could have given it to Doggie-san. You would steal the wand back, and then you would tell us their weaknesses so we could stop them from following us any longer."

Feliciano screwed up his face in contemplation. He hung his head, unsure of what to think. "I could never travel with a changeling," he whimpered. "I could never even face one. I wouldn't have the courage. All I know is how to run from one, and last night, I somehow got knocked out by one. I was _swapped_ with one. One of them pretended to be me. He lied to my friends." He heaved a great, shivery sigh and banged his fist on the wood. The asperities left a sizeable splinter in the side of his hand. "They're so bad, you know. So bad. So, so _bad."_

"They're not bad, Feliciano," Ludwig said darkly. "I've told you that. They're not bad creatures. They simply work for their own benefit more often than not."

"He lied to you," Feliciano forced. "He lied and acted like me and wore my shape. You saw him in his true form for a bit, didn't you? He must have been the ugliest monster ever."

"He wasn't," Ludwig retorted. "He was not the most attractive creature, but he was not ugly, and you should know better than to simply judge on that. You must not call them monsters, either."

"But what about what he did?"

It was Ludwig's turn to sigh. "He was helping his friends, wasn't he? Maybe he was truly under the delusion that the letter revealed to him."

"His friends were liars, too. Why… why do you defend them? Changelings, I mean. Maybe you've never been swapped before, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be aware of the danger."

Ludwig was silent. Feliciano knew nothing of being swapped like he did.

"Why do you defend them?" The fairy forced more urgently. "I was swapped with one, and you keep saying they're not bad. Why?"

"It is because I know one, and he's not a bad person. He's very nice, actually."

Both Feliciano and Kiku looked at him, though Feliciano's expression was one of turbulent confusion and surprise. Kiku simply looked with interest at what this notion might entail.

"You know a changeling?" The fairy asked softly. He sat up and gingerly touched the wood of the trailer as if it would burn him if he pressed too hard.

"That is what I just told you, isn't it?"

"And he's _nice?"_

"Surely this is an interesting twist of the plot, Doggie-san," said Kiku with a half-smile.

"Changelings are not evil and do not swap themselves out of malice. They're just sick and want people to care for them. Changeling children cannot survive without changing into healthier forms, and they cannot survive without the milk of someone who can provide it and the care of someone who can provide that. Their hunger is too great for what the forest can provide them with. Often a changeling does not even have parents. They are not born like we are. They're… symbiotic, sort of. They depend on people like light fairies and humans who can help them grow. And they're very sensitive emotionally."

"Are… are _you_ a—"

"No, Feliciano! It's just a friend that I have. I just know little things about changelings, and I know they're not all bad. If anything, they're smarter than all of us, and they've got it good. They are not morally just, of course, but they get by much better because they can be anyone."

"You're not scared of them? You're not scared of a creature that can transform into anyone and lies and steals?"

"Not at all. Now, that's no reason to let your guard down. Like I said, they're wickedly smart. They can deceive you just like this Alfred deceived me. If anything, I should be teaching you how to see the signs so you can avoid being swapped again. Then perhaps running away would help you. I now realize that I've made a mistake in telling you you should stand your ground. Changelings can be too fast, strong, and smart to argue with. The real you is too important to lose. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Feliciano nodded vigorously.

"Why don't you carry my scissors? They're in the pocket with the wand."

"Right away." Feliciano opened the pocket and held the scissors tightly in his hand.

"Have those on you at all times, and put them very close to where you sleep. Near your pillow is good.

Until they reached town, Ludwig went oddly silent. He felt very strange saying telling Feliciano to put scissors by his bed. Never in his life would he dream of terrifying Gilbert in such a way. Gilbert didn't even know that Ludwig owned a pair of scissors. Ludwig hated to admit it, but there were changelings other than Gilbert, and those changelings worked for their own causes, and there was a real possibility that other changelings were not as nice as Gilbert. Alfred had proved that (though Ludwig did not blame him if he was under a "delusion" in the letter.)

And now that he knew such a thing, he was the one who couldn't let his guard down. For if Feliciano did come across a changeling, Ludwig knew he could not run away no matter how terrified he was.

This letter worried him the more he asked Feliciano about it. The letter described what Feliciano looked like, and it stated the effect of Ludwig's curse and that Ludwig was the dark wizard's brother. Who could possibly know that the dog-man of Piyo Fortress was not the dark wizard's faithful servant, but his little human brother? He considered Basch, but Basch didn't seem like the type of person who would care about what trivial drama happened outside of his home. And Basch might know something about Feliciano in that same, strange way he knew Ludwig was a swap-child, but that wouldn't mean he knew him personally. He most definitely wouldn't know him enough to try and save him from Gilbert's wiles. Basch didn't consider himself a real rival of Gilbert's though Gilbert believed opposite. Feliciano had no knowledge of Basch. He was clearly much more afraid of changelings than any reclusive wizard.

Whoever wrote the letter must have been someone whom Gilbert knew well. Gilbert cursed people in the past. Perhaps it was one of his frequent victims. This person was cursed so badly that he called Gilbert his enemy. Ludwig had no knowledge of anyone like this. He winced at the thought of Gilbert cursing someone into horrid pain at the mentioning of his name. It just didn't seem like something he would do. Perhaps the letter was a lie after all. He settled himself on that thought.

The mercenaries after them, however, would not as easily be settled. Who was it, then, that was after them? Sir Francis, the changeling "Alfred," (who was either the one who chased Feliciano or an entirely different entity,) the snow demon, and a lord of the Isle of Rain called Arthur. Ludwig ran over these names again and again. He scanned the sky searching for a black silhouette obscuring the gray and a flash of red amid glossy feathers. He sincerely hoped that if Gilbert were to visit him again soon, he would not simply drop out of the sky.

Curious, he sat up a bit and asked a question in a rather serious tone. "Feliciano, how awesome is my brother exactly?"

Feliciano's eyes grew wide. His grin showed as many sparkling teeth as he could show. "Gilbert is so _awesome,"_ he said in a peculiar haughty tone Gilbert himself seemed to use too often, "that when he wants to raises his glass, everyone else toasts to him first."

"Funny," Ludwig said, though there was no emotion in his voice to agree.

"Gilbert is indeed very awesome," Kiku added.

"Yeah, it's a shame we never got to meet him. He's so awesome."

"Very, very awesome. I do not yet understand many concepts of living men, but I do understand that this man Gilbert is in fact too awesome for words."

"I wish my big brother was as awesome as Gilbert is. You're so lucky, Doggie."

The corner of Ludwig's lip turned upward. "My brother is that awesome, is he?"

"How do you not realize how awesome Gilbert is?" Kiku said, shocked.

"Gilbert is so awesome, I bet he could tell these rain clouds to go away, and they would," the fairy said dreamily.

"I doubt Gilbert is awesome enough for that," Ludwig said.

"Oh, but he is, Doggie!"

"How do you know he's so awesome if you've never met him?"

Instantly, Feliciano started fiddling with his hands. He furrowed his brow and scrutinized the dark blotches appearing on the trailer from the rain. "Well, I don't really know," he said. "But he _is._ I don't know how I know, but I know that he's the most awesome person I'd probably ever meet."

"Good," Ludwig said, "because —"

"Because what, Doggie?"

Ludwig bit his tongue. "Never mind."

 _Because he's a changeling, and I'm a swap-child,_ he thought.

The rain broke.


	21. Burdens Abated

"Wait, where are you, Kiku? Did you come in here with me?" Feliciano called from the corner.

"Yes, I am here. I did not wish to disturb anyone who is not used to seeing spirits, so I became invisible."

"Well, maybe you can find someone to help if you're visible. You might scare someone if he can't see you."

"Perhaps. I could look for a good deed to do tonight while we are here. I will be keeping watch to see that no one comes to spy on us in the night. Did Doggie-san know how long we were staying?"

"I think he was arranging something with someone else who has a trailer, or maybe someone who has a carriage. I don't know if I can handle getting any more splinters. I can sing them out, but sometimes I accidentally drive them deeper, and I keep finding more of them. I didn't know I'd get my hands this banged up. You don't have to worry about things like that, do you?"

"No."

Ludwig then came into the small room of the inn. "I've arranged with a man to take us to the capital after breakfast tomorrow."

"Has he got a carriage?"

"Horses, but no carriage. You can ride, can't you?"

"I haven't done it in a while, but yes. At least it's not a trailer full of splinters."

"Why were you rolling all over it if you wanted to protect your hands?"

"I wasn't rolling all over it!"

"Yes, you were. I'm assuming that's how you got those big splinters in your sides. That shirt was ripped to its limit by the time we got here. Never mind that. I was told we could get there by tomorrow evening if we keep on the right track."

"Are you going to ride a horse as a big dog-man?" Feliciano asked stupidly with a fantasy clearly in motion.

"Probably not," Ludwig grunted. "Do those fit you all right?"

"Oh, yes, I actually like these a lot more than the other ones," the fairy said cheerfully. He smoothed the chest of his shiny, blue-and-black waistcoat and moved his wings up and down through the tailored holes in the back. His measured trousers fit him perfectly, and he'd chosen thin-leather fencer's boots, claiming with a wink that "they might come in handy." "Hey, I just thought of something funny. What if the changeling is still wearing my clothes and that band of mercenaries come spying on us again? We'd know him right away."

"I wouldn't bet on it," said Ludwig. "They'll probably be smarter about spying from now on. They know we're wary of them. At least one of them is a changeling, and he could disguise himself as anyone. Have you got those scissors on you?"

"I have." Feliciano showed Ludwig the scissors he had been gifted that morning. "Sir Francis wore his on his belt."

"Right. That's a good way to carry them. Make sure they're in plain sight. When you sit at a table, place them on the table. When you sleep, place them next to your pillow."

"I know that, Doggie. I'm from Allegria! We do all of the changeling wards. We've even got magic ones. There's a special ring that Grandpa knew how to create out of stones around our villa. It made this pretty silvery veil appear all around, and we never had any changeling problems when that was up. Amotoile has something like that, too. It's a salt ring all the way around the capital city. I don't know how well it works, but salt rings are supposed to keep out all kinds of devious magic."

"To me it sounds like you are wasting the salt," Kiku said softly.

"I think if even one changeling can't get in, it's not wasted at all," the fairy tutted. "Ahh, I'm definitely hungry again, Doggie. Everyone's down at that cool-looking place by the river. I think I heard familiar music coming from the back. If they ask me to sing, can I join them, Doggie?"

"I have to warn you, Feliciano. You must bring the scissors with you and be prudent about whom you talk to. If you are questioned like you were by Sir Francis, you must come to me."

"I got it. I got it. Hey, what if there are pretty girls there? I hope there are pretty girls there!"

Ludwig hardened his expression. "Are you coming with us, Kiku?"

Kiku jumped. He had been focusing on the glitter of Feliciano's wings, and the inconsequential conversation had been muted. "Well, er, seeing as I do not eat, I do not think I will come with on this particular occasion."

"Aww, really, Kiku?"

"Please allow me to rephrase. I think it will be much more productive if I look for deeds that can be done for the living. I will meet you back here when you are finished."

"Oh, I get it." The fairy smiled and gave a funny mock salute. "Have fun, Kiku."

"Fun…" Kiku whispered, but Feliciano and Ludwig had already gone down the hallway.

"You forgot the scissors!"

"Ah! I'll go and get them!"

Feliciano returned and retrieved the scissors he had so foolishly placed on the night table. He then hurried after Ludwig again, making sure the scissors were fully wedged in his belt loop.

Kiku heaved a sigh."I do not think there is supposed to be anything fun about it. I am burdened. I am supposed to suffer difficulty for what I have done while living. I cannot possibly help people do physical labor or clean or garden in this form. I have been reduced to one who watches and listens and gives advice. I must be creative in how I earn honor sometimes. This quest is proving itself to be interesting."

"Talkin' to yourself over there, burdened one?" Came a voice from the corner. The crane-like spirit had appeared. His stubby wings flapped at his sides, and one leg was curled around another cup of punch. Kiku turned to look at him. He furtively folded his hands to look at least somewhat proper.

"I am contemplating my quest," Kiku said.

"Pretty long one, isn't it? How many deeds have you got yourself so far?"

"One thousand and three."

"Good number. Good number. I'm not for you or against you, but you might want to stay away from the woods tonight. I was just there, and the river spirits are throwing the biggest party I've seen in a long while. They say the rain's got them all riled up. Some frogs were serving the drinks, and you know how frogs are about burdened ones and living folks. I assume it's only a matter of time before they all spill over into town."

"I will be sure to avoid it. Thank you very much."

The crane spirit winked. He tipped his hat crooked and faded into nothingness. Kiku sat on the bed on one side of the room. "I must be careful. I have failed before. It will not be good for me to take a risk here. All deeds lost to simple temptation. Perhaps I can advise my companions to be wary of the night. I am sure that Fairy-ciano would not want to wake with his hair full of water weeds."

Kiku crept to the door. He caught himself raising his hand as if to grasp the handle and turn. Was this the far-off call of his former self working in habit or simply the result of watching his companions do this sort of thing? He shook his head, stood up straight, and walked right through the door.

On the other side was chaos. Lights and colors flashed flamboyantly as spirits of all odd shapes and sizes danced, gambled and popped bottles of liquor. The hallway was full of both laughter and squabbling. Among the highest number of spirits were the frogs. They waddled around on two legs and stuck out their long tongues at unsuspecting spirit flies.

"Eey, we didn' know you was in there," came a croaking voice. Kiku looked down to see a stout, bulging-eyed frog man peering up at him. He flicked his tongue in and out.

"Hello," Kiku said. "Is this a party? I thought you were staying in the woods tonight."

"'Course," said the frog. He offered his long, webbed fingers to Kiku and took his hand. "You saw the rain today, didja not? Rain's good omens. We must celebrate."

"I understand, but must you really celebrate in the inn? I was told you were sticking to the confines of the forest. If you keep to the forest, you will not disturb anyone who may be trying to sleep."

"Are you crazy? Living can't see us," said the frog indignantly. He pointed to a clearly alive young boy wading through the fray with no indication of surprise. "Those your friends or your victims earlier? The whadisit, flitty-boy and his human friend?"

Kiku did not reply. An enormous bullfrog, clearly with the power to touch the living world, was grabbing at the young boy's legs. He was hard of aim, however, and missed several times before grasping both ankles of the unsuspecting one. Kiku abandoned his place next to his frog and rushed forward to knock the bullfrog out of the way. One of his slimy hands still gripped the boy's ankle, however, and he crashed to his knees. The boy swore profusely to which a multitude of crows cackled. An awkward, lonely dream-eater hung in the air silently observing.

"That coulda been a better joke if I'd've gotten both legs," the bullfrog said annoyedly. "Why'd you pull me away? 'E's a living one."

"You could have made him fall on his face. Look at him. He is already covered in scratches. He is probably a traveler."

"Trav'lin' by 'imself?" A crow mocked. "Laughable!"

"Are you burdened? You must be burdened to be a human spirit," said an extremely fat frog perched with his hand of cards.

"When did you die, and how long are you staying?" jeered one of his friends, a lady frog with hot pink lipstick smearing her slimy face. She sipped her glass loudly so Kiku would perhaps hear her.

"I am indeed burdened," Kiku announced, "and I prefer to do good for people rather than to give in. The living are very interesting to be around, though I do not find the spirit world offensive. Please do not mess with them while you are here."

The laughter continued behind him, but he tensed his shoulders and walked to where the young boy was opening a door at the end of the hall. "I hope they did not scare you," he said softly.

The boy shrieked. "Who's there?" He turned, and Kiku, who realized he was not entirely visible, stood back a few steps.

"I am a friendly spirit. I prevented some unfriendly spirits from tripping you."

"Somebody said this place was haunted," the boy said in a quavering voice. He then scowled. "If that's the case, then thank you. But seeing as I don't trust the undead, I'll not be requiring your assistance anymore. Good evening, sir." He pulled open the door to his room and slammed it.

Despite the victim's sour attitude, Kiku once again felt a small piece of his burden lifted away. He stood in this action's wake and absentmindedly took a glass from a toad full of sparkling liquor. He brought it up dreamily, and just as the cool liquid touched his lips, he felt a horrible sinking sensation, as if the weight of the world were crushing him. He instantly dropped the glass, making sure not one drop had come into his mouth. He found it dry and sighed in relief, then glowered at the toad who scurried away to serve other guests.

Kiku waded through the jeering again and exited the inn. Frogs and other spirits lined the streets and seemed to be everywhere but in the woods. He kept his head down and walked circuitously through the crowd. Here and there oblivious residents of the living world walked right through party guests and tables with no reaction. They streamed lazily from their workplaces to go home or to go and enjoy a time of merriment like Kiku's companions. Music drifted through the air on a cool evening breeze. Flutes and fiddles could be heard from just beyond a wall of decorative hedges hanging with lanterns. Voices of men and women carried into the sky, and the sound of clapping broke on every beat of mellifluous joy.

"I am burdened," someone said. The voice was deathly quiet and hollow. Kiku turned to see the dream-eater from the inn following him. Its milky eye stalk was curved in shyness.

"You are?"

"I gave up long ago," said the dream-eater. "It is a long and difficult quest. I was most unfortunate to be swayed into forgetting the joy of honor. I don't remember what I even used to look like. I can only feel the shadow of living mirth in the dreams I encounter."

"Are you perhaps the same dream-eater who crossed me in the forest not too long ago?"

The dream-eater drifted slowly behind him. "Yes," he said simply. "Do not worry. I was fortunate enough to find some other travelers that night. Their dreams were the sweetest I have tasted in years. They were ambitious men. Ambitious but troubled, each with his own burdens and dreams."

"Ah, do not think I wanted to offend you by leaving you," Kiku said with a small smile. "I am very glad you were able to find some wanderers that night.

"Not at all. You are a spirit. I maintain respect for others in our realm, especially because you have taken on the task to restore yourself to the living. I do wish you good luck."

"Thank you. It has been an interesting journey for me. Several times I have been offered the food or drink of the spirit world, and I have longed for it like a living man would."

"Such perseverance is fit to admire. I am going into the forest tonight. It seems the men I feasted upon have been following you."

Kiku stopped. "They have been following us? Is this the group including the changeling and the demon?"

The dream-eater folded his hands and closed his eye. "A changeling, bursting with optimism yet harboring inner doubt. A fairy, locked in a pride that defends him from a hateful society. Two humans, one who imbibes and one who heals. A demon, hard yet soft. And this morning entered with them the strange creature."

"Strange creature? Hoofed, by chance?"

"Hoofed. The body of a man and the body of a great hoofed animal working in harmony as one. I do not know much about him. I only first saw him this morning."

"So the animal Doggie-san saw is a part of the group now. I must inform him and Fairy-ciano of this. Thank you very much for telling me."

"I haven't much else to do. I do not really fit in here with this raucous partying. I am going into the forest to seek quiet. I will build another cabin tonight."

"I wish you well."

"The same to you. I do hope we can meet again."

"Maybe we will."

The dream-eater drifted silently toward the forest looking pleased that he had been able to talk to someone. Kiku guessed that such a spirit would not usually be regarded as friendly except in the case of eating nightmares, and one would usually not receive much conversation. He gave a smile to the sky and looked back upon the merriment of the spirit world. The chance meeting had given him new motivation to continue on his quest. One day, he assured himself, he would be able to amble through the crowd and neither see nor hear it.

In earnest, he went to relay the dream-eater's message about the strange, hoofed creature to his companions.

* * *

The light of two rainbows shimmered in through a window as Arthur walked along the corridor behind the beautiful woman. Her tight, blonde curls bounced with every step she took, and her silken white dress flowed behind her as if she were a cloud drifting aimlessly through the sky on a cool spring day. He looked above him to see the high arches of the castle stretching into the universe. The walls were lined with ornate paintings of fairies wearing noble threads. He gave a sigh of happiness and smiled. What could the queen want from him on such a perfect day as this?

"Come along, Arthur," she said in her lilting, unreal voice. Arthur quickened his pace to walk side by side with her. She turned to him and gave a smile of contentment by his presence. Her eyes twinkled with powerful magic. Her ears were perfect, pointed and proud. Her pleasured countenance made Arthur smile back, and he felt his heart speed up and heat rush into his cheeks at her recognition. _Shameful, shameful,_ he thought. _But I_ am _a lord…_

"Why do you request my presence?" He found himself asking.

"Oh, I think it prudent to show you," she replied. "It is only fair."

"Show me what?"

She was silent and gestured to a door at the end of the endless corridor. She took his hand in her own wonderfully soft fingers and pulled him along. She smelled richly of roses and honey. Arthur looked out another window to see a group of unicorn foals drinking out of a silver stream. They lifted their heads in wonder and looked at him curiously. Arthur was elated. Surely he could fly away in happiness. He felt his feet leave the ground at once. He was really floating. It was then, he realized disappointedly, that none of this was real.

"Who is it that blesses me this night?" He asked the queen. "Is it you? Did you send me this dream? Can you really do such a thing? Or is it merely a product of my innermost desires?"

The queen turned and looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "Bless you? You silly boy. You've been cursed."

"Cursed?"

They had reached the small door, and the queen opened it gingerly. A ray of sunlight lit her cheeks and made them glow with beauty. She pushed open the door and entered first, then gestured to her guest. They had entered a vast ballroom, but it held nothing, and the paint peeled and chipped on the walls. There was only a mirror on one wall boasting an array of colored stones set into its frame. Somehow, the light seemed to dim and tarnish.

"Admire yourself," the queen said.

Oh, what had the queen done? Was he wearing a fabulous ring or a jeweled crown? Could Arthur possibly be _king?_ This was his dream. Anything could be possible. Arthur walked to the mirror in earnest. Just as quickly, he twisted his face in confusion. He did not see himself in the mirror. It was a stranger who stood before him: a severe, pallid, emaciated stranger with murky, green-black eyes and ears like daggers. He wore no robes of majesty, but rather the same clothes Arthur had been wearing the previous day of traveling.

"Who is that?" He asked.

She laughed. "A shock, is it? I assure you that is your own appearance, Arthur. You will agree that it fits you much better than your old form?"

Arthur looked again at his reflection. He bared his teeth, and the stranger bore them, too, sharp and yellowed. He raised a bony, long-fingered hand. The reflection did the same. "What… what am I?" He knew the answer, but feigning ignorance seemed to be the only way to cope with what he saw.

"You're a changeling, you naughty boy," the queen said. Her voice was high and distant. "You did not follow the rules of our land and squandered your exceptional talents on worthless, evil magic, so I have turned you into something that makes a little more sense. Your dark powers will suit you much better now."

"No, you can't have," Arthur said. His voice was hoarse. By this time, he had forgotten that he was dreaming, and an intense terror had begun to claw at him. "You… you can't do that! You can't do this to me!"

"Why not?"

"You… you can't use dark magic to punish someone who used dark magic! It's a vicious circle! Please, can't you forgive me? Show mercy, I beg you! Change me back! I'm hideous!"

"You have brought it upon yourself, Arthur. Perhaps now you will be able to relate to your little brother better."

"No! Please! My crime wasn't nearly as terrible as a changeling's wiles! I didn't steal children! I didn't curse anyone! P-Peter is well cared for, I promise! You can't do this! Don't—"

"Take away your lordship? Your citizenship? Your reputation? Your legacy? None like you deserve these things, Arthur—"

* * *

Arthur awoke with a start. Alfred's clamorous voice was ringing through the camp. He closed his eyes again and gave a shaky sigh. "The queen is merciful," he whispered. "I'm not a changeling. They can't do that to me. I'm not a changeling. I'm not a changeling. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. I'm not a changeling." He examined his hands, and his heart relaxed at the sight of full flesh and a healthy color.

"What's wrong with being a changeling?" Alfred asked. His eternal grin appeared above Arthur's.

"Nothing," Arthur retorted.

"Why don't you want to be one, then? Ya know, except for the ugliness and the sickness and the whole child-stealing thing, I _do_ have some pretty impressive powers. I can transform into anyone!"

"I _know_ you can transform into anyone. You were _me._ And if you had any tact, you wouldn't frighten me when I've only just awoken from a nightmare."

"Another one? And you were a changeling?"

"No," he lied.

"Mm, okay. Come join us, then. I was just showing the others my new battle scar! I didn't see it yesterday, and neither did Mattie, so it just kinda healed itself into the coolest little thing!"

"Where is it?"

Alfred tucked his hair behind his left ear to reveal where a small bit of flesh had been ripped out of it to leave a clean chip. The changeling beamed and gingerly stroked his fingertips over the indent. "Isn't it great? My first one. I remember getting it, too. The dog-man grabbed my ear with his teeth when I was in his shape. It stayed with me into my true form as an injury. I could probably change so I didn't have it, but nah."

"You don't want me to fix that for you, Alfred? I could attempt to regrow the cartilage—"

"No way! It's already healed. I earned it. If you're jealous, I'm sure you'll get one for yourself one day. I'm mighty proud of it. I fought well and hard. A little honor for an infamous creature like myself."

"Good for you, Alfred," Arthur droned. He got up and once again saw that he was the last one to rise.

"I made tea this morning, Arthur," Yao said. "I would have asked you to heat the water for me, but you looked like you were having a good dream again."

"Ah, yes. You were deep in pleasurable fantasy?" Francis teased.

"Pleasurable? I think not," Ivan said.

"Come off it, Ivan," Arthur retorted. "I was having a dream, but I wish not to talk of it."

"He dreamed he was a changeling!" Alfred blurted.

"Oh, really?" Said Francis. "How fascinating. Tell me, did you have the knack to turn yourself into something alluring?"

"You come off it, too, Grease-beard."

"Grease-beard? Oh, but Arthur, I will be taking us to my home soon. I assure you I will fix myself right up again. I shall be just as gorgeous as I was in Lafée."

"Your home?" Alfred asked with rising enthusiasm.

"Oh, yes. I have a lovely house just outside the city. My squire will be waiting for us there. Perhaps my wife will be, too, if she has come back from Darkland."

"Does it have fluffy beds!?"

"Is it the same house you told me about all those years ago? The stately white one with the gardens?" Matthew asked, intrigued.

"The very same one, and I have several guest rooms with plush, feather beds and fluffed pillows. You should be able to indulge in your own pleasurable fantasies while you stay with me. I myself sometimes feel in the comfort of sleep that I am floating above miles and miles of luscious vineyard while the grapes turn into wine."

"Sans salacity? Do tell," Arthur said, taking a sip of his tea.

"Well, you're bitter this morning, aren't you?" Francis replied.

"Certainly not. I was making a note of something interesting."

"In your words, Arthur, ' _come off it,'"_ the human mused.

"Don't fight now," said Yao. "Now, Alfred's already gone to check on the camp, and apparently they've left."

"I'd say they left yesterday," said Alfred. "Our best guess is to meet them in the next town over if they're still there, or in the capital. However, seeing as they're onto us, that's gonna be a bit tricky. Not tricky for me, but you guys'll have to be smart about it."

"I'm not sure I could show my face after what I did to Ludwig. I do want to apologize to him, but I don't want to scare him, see? People around here seem to be a little bit surprised at the sight of me," Matthew said softly.

"Of course they are! You're magnificent!" Alfred laughed.

"Well, that's kinna not really what I mean—"

"I say the best place to meet to discuss further interaction with our quarry is at my house," Francis said. "It shouldn't take too long to get there. A day at best. We could be there by nightfall if we are swift on our feet."

"I'm riding on Mattie's back," Alfred said.

"Oh, could I ride on your back as well?" Yao asked. "You are so high up off the ground. I think it would be like flying."

"Not really like flying," Alfred said, "more like riding a really bulky floating horse. Oh, plus antlers, and he's half human."

"I don't really want to have too many people on my back, Alfred. Maybe just one at a time. And I don't know how fast I'll be compared to other people. I don't want to leave you all behind because of my stride."

But Alfred was speaking over his brother. "See, I know how flying feels. I've been an eagle a few times. Flying's the super smooth ride. Turbulence is the jostling part. When you ride on the back of something, the jostling is constant."

"You've _been_ an eagle," Arthur said.

"Yeah! You looked at my drawings, right? I'm trying to memorize the shape so I don't need a reference. Eagles are top-o-the-line free birds. They take a bit of getting used to, though. Any bird, really. Flying's not as easy as you think."

"That is so amazing," Yao remarked.

"Yes, it is truly frightening what you can do," Arthur scoffed. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Francis flash a quick smile of agreement.

"I am not afraid of him," said Ivan. He smiled, and the temperature dropped ten degrees.

Francis tried to abate tensions. "There is the matter of the town up ahead. Should we skip it, then? Just go to my house?"

"I need food," Alfred complained. "We all need food."

"We shall need to see where Ludwig and Feliciano are in town. Perhaps they have already left," said Francis.

"I agree with Alfred," said Yao. "Food is very important. It was you who said we should have a good meal in town this morning, Francis."

"All right! Let's do it, then!" Alfred exclaimed. "'Course, I'm gonna need some new clothes, too." He jumped up and looked at his brother impatiently. Slowly, Matthew rose to his hooves and once again towered over everyone else in the camp.

"I—I really don't know if it's best for me to go into town with you," he whispered.

"What're you talking about? Ivan's a _demon,_ and he came with us into town last time."

"Well, Ivan at least… has two legs." Up in the sky, Matthew was turning a bright shade of pink.

"Not used to gawkers, are you? Maybe if you could disguise yourself like me… wouldn't that be funny? You as a changeling? Hey, lower yourself so I can get on."

Matthew lowered his voice so only his brother could hear. "I didn't think they would all look at me like I'm a mythical creature. I thought since the traders come from Amotoile, people would just know that Homoalces exist. I didn't think I was worlds away. Everything just seems so small here."

Alfred shrugged. "Some people look at me like I'm about to eat their children — which I _won't."_ He emphasized the last part so Arthur could hear, and then added with a smirk, "unless I'm particularly hungry."

"You'd better not talk like that once we're in public," Arthur snapped.

"What? Children are super tender and tasty! Especially fairy children. The ears have a little extra crunch to them, and they're naturally salty."

"You don't really, do you?" Matthew whispered. Alfred rolled his eyes and mouthed " _no."_

"I will have to agree with Arthur," said Francis. "You will need to watch your language, especially in our capital. It is the most protected city in the whole country. My fellow knights will be watching. I expect that you can take it with a grain of salt you would usually not be welcome."

"Shuckers," Alfred mused.

"Will anyone know if you let him in?" Yao asked.

"We don't have magic barriers, but it is all a matter of seeing the signs."

"I don't show the—"

"You can't hide some things, and you must accept it," Arthur butted in. "Why do you think Ludwig caught you trying to steal the wand? Your hand was burning, and you probably smelled strange. Your kind has a smell, you know."

"Well, I didn't see the scissors."

"Precisely, and you could accidentally touch some anywhere. We all know what happens when you see someone holding them."

"Ah," Francis said suddenly. "We may be checked at the border of the city. Scissors on skin. I will attempt to reason since I am a knight, but perhaps —"

"No way! I'm going into the city!"

"They should let me in at least. My sisters are in the capital," said Ivan. "I have been there before."

"They should let you in just fine, Ivan," Francis said.

"Could they tell if Alfred turned into a bird or something?" Arthur inquired. "Gods, this is terrible what I'm saying right now. The Council would lock me up in an iron cage."

"I don't even want to think about it yet," Francis said. "However, I will try everything in my power, Alfred. I care enough for that. You are a good young man. I think you've proved that by now." He gave a weak smile.

"Hey, thanks, Francy! All right, off to town and off to your house. I can't wait to try these fluffy beds for myself."

One question lingered in Arthur's mind as they set off for town. How in the world was Alfred still so amazingly optimistic? He'd been the one to suffer the light frequency of Feliciano and live through an apparently brutal fight with the dog-man. Yet here he was sitting on the back of his Homoalces brother beaming at the blue sky of a fresh, new morning. What was it that kept him so amused at every sight and smell? Was it simply the nature of his kind, or could it have been something else? A sense of adventure perhaps? Or the rush of recklessness brought about by the joy of risk? In a way, perhaps, Alfred was freer than Arthur, and that was a gloomy thought.

 _Freedom._

That was it, he realized. Alfred may have been despised, but he was _free,_ and freedom was the secret of his confidence. Arthur had never been free in his life, and his confidence had been draining away from him ever since the day of his conviction. His very pride was wilting just as fast as it burgeoned, leaving him feeling hollow and vulnerable behind his conceited countenance. It might have explained a rationale for stealing Ivan's flask and dancing with ignorance.

 _I may not be a changeling, and I would never want to be one, of course,_ he reasoned further, _but I am quite smart and talented in dark magic myself, and I must be somewhat free, at least now that I'm in Amotoile on my own. All I need is confidence.  
_

 _I'm the dashing Arthur Kirkland._

Then, Arthur smirked, and his heart lit with a sense of newfound, fiery pride. _Maybe I shouldn't be afraid of the Council after all. They're the ones who should be afraid of me. They can't even touch me. They picked me for this endeavor because I'm so good at magic and understand the darker side of it. My dream was nothing but a silly reminder of a trivial stress. I'm Lord Kirkland, user of both magics_ _. I'm so hot, I could kiss myself.  
_

 _I'm_ not _a changeling, though. Let's get that straight right now._


	22. Solace in Feathers

"Sir Francis!" Someone yelled. The knight in question gave a sheepish smile to his companions. They had not yet entered the town, and already someone had recognized one of them.

"I should go and see who it is. It doesn't sound like Ludwig or Feliciano," Francis whispered. He entered the sunlit town to come face to face with a young man wearing the blue coat of an Amotoile knight. His expression was relieved to find the elder, and he earnestly shoved an envelope into his hand.

"I was told to give you this. I didn't think I would find you here, though. Are you still on that mysterious letter business?" His voice was thick with Amotoile's accent.

"Ah, yes. I still am."

"Is it going well for you? Did the others show up all right? We received no notice from you, so we were a bit worried. Some began to talk. You know how young, envious men can be when a superior gets an assignment with so much freedom."

"I am fine," said Francis, "and the mission is going quite well. My companions, in fact, are with me as I speak. Why don't you all come out and introduce yourselves?"

Arthur had to hold his arm out stiff as a board to stop Alfred from darting out of the trees. He mouthed _ask him_ to Francis, and the knight gave a small nod of understanding.

"We were hoping, Sir Clément, did you happen to see a fairy and a blond, muscular man this morning anywhere in this town?"

"I did," the younger replied. "They just left. I thought I heard one of them say they were headed to the capital. They aren't your quarry, are they? I could send notice to the capital if you don't want them to enter."

Francis stood still for a second. Then he said, "That will not be necessary… yet. They are already suspicious of us, and stopping them from entering the city will make them even more wary of our presence. They do have a dark wizard on their side. We would not want to outwardly provoke any complications. My companions and I are capable. We will deal with them as our mission progresses."

"Ah, so you are tailing them. That is a smart plan."

Arthur's arm was getting sore. He finally relented, and Alfred burst from the foliage to offer Francis' younger friend a hand to shake. Obviously, he was interested in making a good impression before entering a city doing everything in its power to keep him out. His smile was a never-faltering streak of shining white. His sky-blue eyes glowed with giddiness from behind his glasses. Francis at first narrowed his eyes at the meeting, (especially with the tight shirt the changeling had borrowed from Arthur), but his shoulders seemed to relax a bit when Sir Clément returned the gesture and shook.

Yao pushed from behind Arthur and repeated Alfred's handshake, though with less youthful vigor and with more slow-paced decorum. He introduced himself casually, and his smile was much softer than its predecessor. So it was repeated with each member, and Clément gave overly polite responses to each, (especially, Arthur thought, to Ivan, whose greeting sounded more like a threat in disguise and whose handshake made Clément look rather like he would love to suck on his frozen fingers.)

When Arthur introduced himself, he held himself with an air of pride which he hoped would be enough to discourage any strange thoughts about the sight of his ears. Arthur was surely not the most awkward to step forward. This fell to Matthew, who fought an inner battle with himself concerning whether it was more polite to step forward and greet Francis' associate or to remain and spare him the wild surprise. It turned out that Clément had seen Homoalces before, so he was not at all surprised or shocked that such a creature existed. In fact, he was delighted to once again speak to one and know that good relations between Amotoile and the lands beyond the sea persisted.

"I unfortunately must be on my way again," said Clément. "I was passing through here on my way to quite the same place you were not too long ago, Sir Francis. Another changeling sighting has been reported. I hate to complain, but these reports are getting terribly monotonous."

"The hysteria may be increasing, but they can't be taken lightly in any case. A changeling is not a creature to mess around with. They are _indeed_ real, and they do steal people away. What happens with them, still no one knows."

"I hear that day in and day out, but I've never seen one. The reports all come in, and we knights are sent to answer them, but we have so little success, I'm beginning to believe changelings are simply the product of our imaginations or some myth sent over by the Isle fairies. It's a badger or a raccoon stealing all those eggs and hens and not an 'overgrown, white rat-goblin' as Lady Emma so gracefully puts it."

"Lady Emma is having troubles with her hens again?"

"Unfortunately so. And her brother must be returning from his latest run soon. If we can't prove it was a badger or weasel or skunk, someone will have to answer to Tim, and woe to whoever takes the case. He is a fierce believer in changelings."

"It may have been an animal, but we can't be certain. Has she tried a salt barrier around her coop? Perhaps laden with iron nails?"

"She has tried many things, but she tells us she always finds the salt rings swished away and the nails scattered about and less eggs than yesterday and maybe one less chicken. Feathers everywhere. An animal could do that easily. Sir Francis, do you really believe it's an _intelligent_ creature doing these awful things? We are rational men, are we not?"

"I can't tell," Francis sighed. "I shall have to see into it when I return to the city. The best of luck on your assignment, Sir Clément. Be sure to wear your scissors."

"As should you, Sir Francis," Clément said with a bit of an eyeroll.

"How can someone not believe in changelings?" Arthur asked once the younger knight was out of earshot. "'Rational men?' A rational man takes precautions. A rational man learns how a changeling speaks and acts so he can be prepared."

"I guess the guys in Amotoile are just really good at what they do," Alfred said. "They sound like a pretty smart crowd to me if there are people who don't even believe in them."

"Alfred, would you steal eggs and hens?"

"I'd go for the eggs first, and only if I was hungry enough."

"Really?" Francis asked softly. "Would you, now? What would possess you to choose to steal?"

Alfred slowed and narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to get me to reveal changeling secrets?"

Francis seemed taken aback. He looked at Alfred with an air of authority. "Alfred, Lady Emma is a very esteemed baker. She boasts a very well-maintained and protected chicken coop along with her dairy cows. She and her workers spend every day collecting eggs and milk so that she is able to create such delicious cakes and her special waffles. Try to imagine how upset she might be if she saw one morning that _something_ had been pilfering eggs from her and perhaps one day stealing an entire bird."

"Well, it might be an animal. We'd have to know more to be sure, but I guess if that's the way she describes the thing, it was probably a changeling."

"'White rat-goblin could mean a lot of things," said Yao. "A weasel sounds reasonable."

"It wasn't me," Ivan said. "I am not cruel like that."

"Where does Lady Emma live?" Alfred asked.

"Why, she lives in her manor to the north of Amotoile, but she often comes down to sell on market days."

"Country?"

"Near a town in a rather rural area. Why?"

"Not a lot of people around?"

"I don't believe so. She lives alone, and her two brothers are merchants."

"And how often do these incidents occur?"

"Fairly often as of late."

"Would you say at regular intervals?" Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"I believe that would describe the lady's plight."

Alfred looked sincerely at Francis and gave a sympathetic sort of smile. "Talk doesn't travel as quickly and people are generally less informed in rural areas, so they're safer for us to settle. She's probably dealing with a swapped one."

"A swapped one?" Arthur asked. "Why would a swapped changeling steal? It's being fed at home, isn't it?"

"Only enough for its human charade," Alfred stressed wryly, shaking his head. "Picture yourself as a baby changeling in the place of some kid. You may be disguised, but your unstable magic continues to shape itself inside you, not to mention that your body has to adapt to its new growth rate. Naturally your hunger is even worse than usual. The hunger controls you. You start to get irritable. Aggressive. You speak and act like you're much older than you really are. Your new parents get suspicious. They become afraid, but there's no way you can tell them just how ravenous you are and expect them to feed you until you're full. No little kid can eat that much and not puke, and you know you definitely can. So your only option is to get food somewhere else. And if you're desperate, you're not gonna be polite and go into town where you end up squandering your family's money. You're gonna be an egg thief. And maybe occasionally a hen might disappear."

His companions were appalled at his enlightenment.

"Did you do something like that?" Yao asked.

Alfred was flushing in the heat of his friends' countenance. "I — I don't really — I was never swapped. I just know that that's what a lot of them do. I mean, I've felt desperate before."

"When you lived with us, eating that much wasn't weird," Matthew said. "But after you left, did you have to steal?"

"Maybe sometimes. I'm not, well, I can't blame myself if I did. You can't understand what it's like. The verge of death is a lot closer for me than for all of you." His voice was getting drier by the second. His face kept flushing redder, more with guilt than with defensive pride, and he fiddled with his hands.

"Perhaps we should assume a lighter subject," Arthur said in spite of his sudden resentment toward his dark companion. "Let us have a bite to eat here, shall we? This town is a nice place. The weather is lovely, isn't it? No, no, I mean, the weather is very bad today. Look at those clouds. It may rain again." He stressed the latter part toward Alfred and hoped he understood that it was no longer a good time to discuss changeling ethics. Alfred looked back at him with a strange twinkle in his eye, clearly impressed that Arthur could know such a quirk of his hidden language.

"I think I'll meet you on the other side of town when you're ready," Matthew piped up. "It's silly, but I won't fit anywhere where you go, and I'll look ridiculous in any case. I don't want to cause anyone trouble."

"Aw, really?" Alfred whined, but Matthew was sorrily adamant.

Arthur, in search of new confidence, decided to go into down uncovered by the hood of his capelet, and despite the odd looks and snickering from every direction, he simply held his chin high and reminded himself that he was not the oddest one in his group. And in any case, if one were to assume he was a changeling, as had happened the last time he'd gone uncovered, he would vie for himself with a quick stroke of scissors. He wondered what would happen if Alfred were accused of being a changeling. Would he perform some illusion to make it look like the scissors didn't burn? Would he flee? He couldn't even look at a pair of scissors without lashing out at whoever held them. A dark cloud covered the sun. Now was not the time to think of such things.

After they had eaten, they traveled on to the wide road leading out of town. Matthew rejoined and assured them that he had had his fill of shoots and branches. ("It's not weird, Alfred. You used to eat that, too… Yes, I _do_ eat meat, Alfred. Yes, beaver tail is very good!") All of them seemed to be filled with new energy, and more positive subjects were readily talked about. Francis took out the letter he had been given earlier and examined its contents.

"Who is it from?" Yao asked.

"Ah, one look and I recognize the handwriting. It is from my wife."

"You're married?" Matthew mused. "How wonderful!"

"Beautiful as she is sharp and dauntless. My dear Arthur, you call me a salacious man, yet I would never in my life take any woman but Jeanne. I must read this. She's been on a mission in Darkland for some time now. I hear it's a dreadful place. Her work is terribly dangerous."

Arthur furrowed his brow. "What does she do? Slay dragons?"

"Yes," Francis replied as if this were not odd at all.

"Slay dragons!?" Yao exclaimed, agape and aghast.

"Not your kind," Arthur replied.

"Oh no, Yao," Francis added. "These are Darkland's variety of dragons. They are not the kindly creatures you encounter where you come from. Some breathe fire, and some breathe icy wind, and some spit poison. They destroy entire villages and steal any gold they can find. It takes courage to slay one, and my lovely wife is one who takes on the challenge."

"I could not imagine a dragon doing that," Yao retorted. "They are good!"

"Not Darkland's breed," Francis continued. "Heartless, scaly monsters that grow as big as a town with teeth sharper than the thinnest blade." He unfurled the letter and read silently:

 _My dearest wonderful, beautiful Francis,_

 _The dragon I have been presented with in Darkland is an unruly fellow. He sits on a pile of bones and jewels and will not listen to anything anyone says. Typical beast. The only thing to complement him is that it's so damn cold here._

 _No match for me, however. I haven't felt the good, strong Darkland blade in a long time, and it feels so natural to be in my hands once again. They encrust everything with black jewels here. They also wear a lot of dragonhide. Black, of course. I'm still not sure whether they paint it black or they only wear the skin of black dragons. Most agree they just think it looks "cool," and perhaps this is quite literal._

 _I met a man not too many days ago now who always wears dragonhide gloves no matter what he is doing, and he told me it is because he was bitten on the hands by dragons as a child. Seriously. A fire dragon bit his right and an ice dragon bit his left. One hand burst into flame, and the other one frosted over and was solid. I asked him why he didn't consult the fair folk, (as unreliable as they are,) and he told me he did. An Isle potioneer tried fixing him up. His magic only went so far, and the most he could do was quench the flames and defrost him. Now he simply has one hand that burns anything he touches and another that freezes likewise. He wears the gloves to keep them at a bearable temperature, though I could still feel the intense warmth and cold through the hide. Despite his misfortune, he seems to be happy. He's got a few outlandish friends to keep him company. It's just a reminder that even in the most difficult of circumstances, happiness still exists._

 _I hope the best for you and your duties. I miss you and the feel of your touch. Stop worrying about me and smile. Or perhaps frown like you do when you're faced with a changeling assignment. You're a strong man. Strong and handsome and loving. Spread some love in my absence, will you?_

 _Everlasting love, XO, Jeanne_

"So, has she killed the dragon?" Alfred asked.

"Stop saying such things! I refuse to believe them!" Yao retorted.

"Not yet, but I do not know how long ago this was written. I will write back immediately when we get to my house. She will want to hear back. I have not told her of the swallow seal endeavor. Oh, but Darkland is crazy as usual. People being bitten and their hands bursting into flame."

"Dragon fire is inextinguishable, is it not?" Ivan asked. "Demons have hard time getting rid of dragons. Demons and dragons do not get along. Dragons have kept us from invading Darkland again for many years. We would like to, though. It is nice and snowy there. We would love to once again make it our home."

"It is not your home!" Yao snapped. "You leave the dragons alone!"

"Technically, Darkland is home to humans. Dragons and demons invaded Darkland," Francis said.

"Ah, you say that, but Darkland welcomes the wind demons. I had to impose law that prevented wind demons from visiting Darkland. It was not fair that they could visit and the snow demons could not."

Yao huffed. "Changelings and now demons. Who is the most irrational creature in the world? No one will ever know."

While Ludwig and Feliciano traveled on horseback to the capital, the Mercs had traveled on foot. This led them to not only get to the destination at least an hour after the sun set, but each was equally frustrated about his lack of food and comfort. Luckily, Francis was eager to provide each.

The large white chateau about a mile out of the city was surrounded on all sides by what seemed an endless patch of green. Trimmed hedges lined the perimeter, and leading up to the yellow double doors was an intricate pattern of hedges and bushes that resembled knitted cables and bobbles. The moonlight flashed on the windows, and two lanterns above the doors were lit welcomingly. The house had two stories, and each room had a large window. The window in the middle of the house had a small terrace where vines were clinging and spiky potted plants sat in holders. A row of little flowers peeked out from the beds in front of the house.

"My home at last," Francis sighed. "It is so late, I can imagine Picardy has already gone home himself. He never expected me coming home tonight. Come along. I am not tired enough to deny us a meal."

The simple command to follow Francis into the foyer was not as well-taken as it should have been. Arthur was stunned by the simple grandeur of the chateau, and he was tiredly trying to compare this Amotoile home to Kirkland Manor to see whether his own house was better. It was not he, however, who was in distress about entering such a home. _He_ could more easily compare it from the inside. The Homoalces was flushing. The double doors, even with their impressive height which smoothly let Ivan in, still could not accommodate him, and he worried further whether his hooves would dirty the carpet and whether his antlers would scratch the ceiling.

"Stupid," Matthew whispered harshly under his breath. "I don't fit in this world. Why I even thought—"

"You can, Mattie! Come on!" Alfred urged. He grabbed his brother's wrist and tried pulling him closer to the doors. Matthew stood unchanging. Not one hoof moved from its position.

"I want to, Alfred, but can't you see I won't fit? I'm too big. I'm not meant to be in there."

"Can't you try?"

"Perhaps we should dine outside before retiring," Francis suggested. "That way, you could feel more welcome."

Matthew's stress seemed instantly abated. "Okay. I like that idea." Still, he looked through a window into the house's drawing room with an almost tangible disappointment in his eyes. Logs were perched in the fireplace unburned, and two armchairs loomed in curious shadow.

"It is much colder out here, anyway," said a smiling Ivan. Yao's reaction was the opposite, but he tried to smile for Matthew's sake.

"Alfred," Francis chimed, "I can show you to your bed. I think you'll like it. It has goosefeather pillows and a nice, handmade quilt."

"Real feather pillows!? Show me!" Alfred exclaimed. Francis beckoned him into the house, and he eagerly left Matthew's side. Matthew appeared a bit disgruntled, but acquiesced and looked around for a possible place to sleep for the night.

"Could you also show me a place to sleep?" Yao asked as he followed.

"Please show me your coldest room," added Ivan.

"All uppity about pillows?" Arthur scoffed once the others had gone inside. "How primal is he?"

"Aren't you going inside? Wouldn't you like a bed like that?" Matthew asked. He lay down on his four legs and leaned closer to the fairy. "I really don't mean to pry, but perhaps if you have frequent nightmares, a nice bed would be good for you. You should definitely try sniffing some lavender as well." Arthur stiffened, but Matthew's tone was not brash or mocking like those of his other companions. It was a silken, concerned voice that was brimming with kindness. Matthew spoke as if he was already Arthur's good friend.

"I — well, yes, I do understand that. I just don't understand why Alfred is so excited about something so ordinary. I must have a hundred feather pillows myself."

Matthew cracked a smile. "I think they're _odd,"_ he said. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I've used them, but more for my hooves than my head. I'm not sure about Alfred. I think he just finds them the stuff of luxury."

"Luxury? Oh, no, he is mistaken."

"I guess he never used one for his head while he lived with me, and after that, I don't know how many nights he spent without a proper home like he has in Scintillatia. Still, I can see where you come from. He's built for a bed like that, and he thinks it's alien like I do."

Arthur sighed. "Enough on that subject. I'm too tired to ponder ridiculous people."

"He _is_ ridiculous, eh?" Matthew agreed.

"Aye," Arthur said. He sat on the ground and rubbed his calf muscles. "You're not upset that you have to be out here?"

"No, of course not."

"Are you sure? I know I saw you looking distressed earlier."

"I'm not upset. I've accepted that I'm just not the right size to be in Francis' house. You have two hooves to walk around on, and I have four."

 _Hooves?_ Arthur thought to himself, but he didn't ask Matthew what that was about. He continued massaging his legs while they waited. The peaceful garden was a great source of relief. Perhaps Arthur would have another nightmare when he closed his eyes, but here, despite being in Amotoile, he felt secure. He was finally free from the brash voices and irritating personalities surrounding him for so many days. He was not lying on the ground in a camp where Alfred could run around bloody or he could wake up hungover and without memory. It was here where he would sleep in a proper bed. A bed which wouldn't cause him to feel achy and dissatisfied. An _ordinary_ bed.

To any man in need of comfort, he decided, an ordinary bed is the stuff of luxury.

"You know, I guess I am a bit… frustrated," Matthew said softly. Arthur turned upwards. "Francis used to tell me about Amotoile and how lovely it is, right? And I always imagined myself traveling here, right? And now I'm here, and I don't understand anything. I thought I knew, but it's all different from what I imagined it to be. I passed through some towns on my first morning here, and they all looked at me… funny. I know they've never seen anyone like me before, but I feel so alien. I can't enjoy all the things Francis told me about because I'm not completely human like Francis. Maybe you feel the same way. You're from the Isle of Rain, aren't you? Traders from the Isle and Amotoile always quip about how different one country is from the other. You know what I mean by this weird feeling? This feeling of distance from the comfort of understanding?"

"I know," Arthur replied slowly. "I had a conversation with my brother on the way to Lafée about being in a land where fairies are scoffed at. Truthfully, I don't feel at home here either."

"Maybe it's just that I'm disappointed. I thought I could be free from disappointment, yet even after reuniting with my best friends in this wonderful place, I still feel like I can't enjoy my time here completely. I don't know if it's rational, but I feel so out of place. I'm being noticed for all the wrong reasons."

"Well, even where I'm from, people don't trust _me_ completely. You very well might be better off than me, Matthew."

"It's not that. People are kindly, it's just —"

"They have the slightest thought that you will not be kindly in return. Your appearance and abilities label you as untrustworthy."

"Exactly."

Arthur sighed. "I cast one very impressive spell, yet I didn't know how it worked, and the fine print crushed me and my reputation. My queen and her court don't trust me anymore. My brothers tease me, and my youngest brother hates me."

"Oh, that's really sad. You don't seem to deserve it."

"It's a hard thing to be thought of as not trustworthy. I was a child when dark magic was first banned. I was too young to take it seriously, and I was talented. I practiced what the schools didn't teach. I thought I surpassed all my peers because of my reckless behavior. And now I am labeled as a delinquent. What am I saying? My guild hated me even before my conviction."

Matthew's voice was firm. "Feeling sorry for yourself will get you nowhere, you know. I've done it too many times myself. It's not healthy."

"I don't feel sorry for myself. I'm trying to regain my confidence. I'm trying to see the good in what I did. The fun in it. The great things the Council couldn't recognize me for."

"Maybe you say so, but why are you still feeling so uneasy instead of proud? Think about that."

"Matthew — I — I feel trapped." His voice, usually so strong and full of assurance, was reduced to nearly nothing.

"Well, isn't this a nice place to relax in the midst of your trappedness?"

Arthur shrugged and pulled at his knee-socks. He decided he liked Matthew. He was strange, and he trusted Alfred, but somehow, he had the ability to make the atmosphere just a bit less tense.

A little idea pricked in Arthur's imagination. It was terribly reckless, and if the Council ever found out, he could be done for. Still, it wouldn't be considered as terrible as the first time he'd been caught. Especially if the subject complied with the idea willingly.

"Matthew, erm, have you ever seen magic before? Not including Alfred's, of course."

Matthew's lilac eyes sparkled with interest. "A bit, yes. Some of the traders are fairies. They can do wonderful things. I saw a man wave his hand, and his drink flew over to him without him even touching it."

"You think it's useful and good?"

"I guess it would depend on the intentions of whoever is using it."

"Matthew… can you meet me, er, well, where will you be sleeping tonight?"

His velvety ears drooped. "I suppose in the stable, if Francis will let me." He nodded over to where a lonely stall stood.

It took all his conviction to make the declaration. "I am going to meet you there at midnight."

Matthew looked confused, but Arthur said no more.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Who is the man with the dragonhide gloves? Two clues: the product of fire and ice, and the title of chapter 10.**


	23. Tasks Ahead

Patience was usually something Feliciano did not have trouble with. After all, he hailed from a country where suppers could last for hours and the afternoons were spent with expected torpor. Feliciano had complained numerous times to Ludwig and Kiku that he was missing his afternoon nap, and that was the reason for his sluggish movements, though he had a feeling Kiku was not really listening.

However, now Feliciano was indeed feeling the wiles of impatience, and it spurred directly from Ludwig's anxiousness about going into the city at such a late hour in the day. The sun was preparing to dip below the horizon, and already a rainbow was beginning to form on the western sky where the sun would say its farewells. Ludwig remarked that the stars would soon be out, and he wondered if it would be difficult to find a room within the city if his face was buried in his night cloak.

"I'll just do the talking for you, Doggie! You don't have to worry about a thing. You deserve some rest. It's been such a long day. Then tomorrow we can start searching! Oh, I should find the place where I used to paint with Grandpa. I haven't really been here since then. Grandpa said I'd be doing something I loved when I found his treasure. Painting is something I love."

"Fine, but we should get there soon. I've been keeping watch on where the evening star appears. It should be there right about now, and that's when I can't be careless. We must find a place to stay, and my room must not have a window. If this is really the place where your grandfather's treasure is, I can't risk transforming."

"Relax, Doggie. You're really going to like Fleur de Vie. It's a beautiful city. Now, I'm not sure if the food is as good as we have in Allegria, but it _is_ delicious. Oh, Doggie, you really should come to Allegria. You should come too, Kiku."

"I will go where the wind takes me," Kiku muttered.

"Maybe you could go ahead invisible and try to find a place for us to stay. Oh hey, there's the salt ring!" Feliciano pointed to a pure white streak on the ground that curved ever so slightly. He dismounted and bent down to inspect the tiny grains of salt making up the thick ring. Its rim was dotted with bits of scrap iron. It was imposing to visitors. Feliciano could only smile at its cleverness and the effort the city made to maintain it.

"It keeps dark creatures out?" Ludwig asked.

"Yeah! So the city is completely safe! And see, it lets me in because I'm only filled with good magic!" He held out his arm so it crossed the girth of the barrier. The air let it right through, and he wiggled his fingers with no resistance to his presence. He looked back at Ludwig, who seemed to be contemplating the salt ring and its purpose. Feliciano remembered him talking about having a changeling friend. Was this strange, showing him one of the best precautions for keeping changelings out of a city? He measured the notion, but it seemed far less strange than having a friend who was a changeling.

Feliciano flitted over the ring in one huge, gravity-defying leap, and he guided his dappled white horse over the salt so he wouldn't step on any metal that might bend his horseshoes. Ludwig did the same, and Kiku floated unceremoniously over the barrier with no great interest in its power.

"All right, then. It's just a little ways past those trees, and then we'll be at the front gates. Some guards will be there, so look friendly. Don't worry, though, they're usually pretty nice. As long as you're not from the Isle of Rain, they shouldn't tease you too much."

"Why would they tease me at all? They're supposed to be serious."

"The guards tease everyone," Feliciano said matter-of-factly.

"They shouldn't be so careless. What if a changeling walked in right under their noses? A changeling who intended to cause real harm?"

"A changeling couldn't get in. The salt ring would keep him out."

"What if he managed to get past the salt ring?"

"He'd have to convince someone to part the salt for him. No one would do that for a changeling. And the guards are well-trained. I'm sure they'd be able to spot a changeling before anything bad could happen. Besides, the city is full of knights and more guards — people like Sir Francis who know what a changeling looks and acts like, so they can sniff him out and throw him right out of the city."

"Feliciano, do you think there are more people like Francis here? Do you think more knights will be wary of us because of that letter?"

The fairy stopped in his tracks. He brought his eyes out of their incessant squint. "I don't know," he said coldly. "I hope not. We're innocent if there are. I told Francis again and again that me giving you the amulet is a transaction of trust. There isn't any dark wizard involved. That's just crazy!"

"Right. And if what Kiku said is true, the first group will be easy to spot with that huge, hoofed creature on their side. Then we can avoid the cause of the problem."

They reached the front gates, an impressive iron structure with curving swirls of metal adorned by hundreds of little flowers. Two young men stood guard on either side. They wore blue coats and breeches, and their sashes were decorated with silver lilies. One was heavily bearded while the other's face was narrow and cunning. He gripped his spear tightly and grinned as they approached.

"Halt," the guard said with vigor. "Who seeks entrance to Fleur de Vie?" He looked at his bearded companion.

The bearded one seemed to roll his eyes. He shrugged and held his spear up higher. "If ye be fair, we can't but care," he said. "If ye be unloving, you'll get a big shoving."

"You like it?" The first guard blurted. "We're actors on Saturday nights. I've been writing."

"Fantastic!" Feliciano replied. "I _am_ fair, though. I'm a winged fairy from Allegria. Feliciano of the House of Roma."

"Are you, now? And your companion? What is he? Your enchanted servant? I hear those are getting a lot of intrigue these days."

"I am Ludwig of Volkerburg."

"Are you really? Are you sure about that?"

"I am sure."

"We have to be sure," the bearded guard said. "An Allegrian should get over the salt ring without difficulty, and your fair companion wears scissors on his belt, so we know he is not dangerous. But you, who wear no scissors, must be checked."

"Ye who wears metal is a friend of our petals," the first guard cooed. He took a pair of scissors from his belt and approached Ludwig. With two swipes across his cheeks, he was confirmed to be safe. The guard then did the same thing with their horses to make sure neither of them was a changeling in disguise, and then returned to his post. "We do like visitors from Allegria. I hear you're all beautiful singers. Just _magnifique."_

"Ah, _grazie."_

" _Je t'en prie."_

"You could smile more," the bearded guard said to Ludwig as he passed through the gates. "If an Allegrian is your predecessor, you should be a much happier man."

"I'll… try," Ludwig said.

* * *

Beyond the city gates, the city itself was in a slow, meandering state. The clinking of wine glasses could be heard from verandas and beneath awnings hung with dim, flowered lanterns. The horses' hooves clicked on the cobblestone path winding through inns and emptying storefronts and laughter. Ludwig drew his hood up over his head. Had that white speck of light been a star? No, it was just a trickle of water flashing in the light as a woman gave petunias a drink on her balcony.

Despite his shyness under the steadily-less-elusive stars, Ludwig's party soon began attracting attention. It was mostly Feliciano people were looking at. His tannish-gold wings caught the dying sunlight and shimmered like diamonds. He fluttered them in and out and twirled around the path in circles, eagerly chattering about all the felicities that arose whenever he visited this place. Low mutterings were heard on the verandas and under awnings. People spoke in Amotoile's language: things that Ludwig could easily infer to be statements of awe and wonder. He thought he even saw a young lady blush after Feliciano gave her a smile and a wink. Allegrians really were favored here.

Ludwig noticed the darker side of this merry place, too. The sunlight glanced off of windowsills where scissors had been placed in the line of sight of any unwanted strangers. Miniature salt rings, like the one around the city, were spread around homes and gardens. Every so often, he caught the red of holly berries hanging from door knockers. Every city guard wore a large pair of scissors on his belt in the same fashion as Sir Francis. There was a definite scent in the air as the night fell and the lanterns were lit. It was a strange sort of spicy incense. He remembered smelling it elsewhere one time. It had made Gilbert sick. This place was wary of dark magic and sought endlessly to prevent the stealing of any of its citizens.

They dropped off the kind man's horses in a stable on the edge of the city, and then Feliciano dragged his companion through streets of cheerful people dining and streets of a classy residential area with grape vines clinging to townhouses to bring them to a massive fountain near the city's heart. The water was stained blue in the coming nightfall. In the center was an elegantly carved silver lily. Water flowed over the petals and dropped like dew on a real flower into the stone basin.

Here, the fairy finally stopped running and chattering and sat on the fountain's edge to watch the sun's final rays dip below the horizon. He let his shoulders drop, and his wings were motionless in the spectacle of the city and the evening clouds. Ludwig, in turn, let his hands be covered by the folds of black fabric. He looked at the ground. Now was not safe to be out in the open. He had to find a place to stay where the starlight wouldn't touch him. Feliciano had been so eager to show him the city, but what could he show him now?

"We used to paint next to this fountain," he said, breaking the silence. "It's very quiet right now. During the day, there are lots of people here. We used to paint them. I loved painting the pretty girls. I should paint some tomorrow. Maybe I could even ask one to dinner."

He seemed disappointed that Ludwig did not give a reply. In the need for some form of conversation, he continued, "You know, I used to know someone who looked like you. I can't remember his name, but he had blond hair and blue eyes like yours. The same shades. It was back in my days of living and studying in Volkerburg. He was strange, but really, really smart. He moved away one day, so I didn't know him for long."

"Hmm... interesting. Er, we must find a place to sleep for the night. Where has Kiku gone?"

"He must have gone to find some place to stay. Kiku, are you around?"

"I just returned," Kiku said. He materialized in front of them. "I did find a good place to stay for the night. It has a room with no windows for you, Doggie-san. And for you, Fairy-ciano, it has a very… 'spritely' young lady working there."

"Oh, wow, really?" The fairy gushed. "Wow, Kiku, thank you! _Grazie mille!_ Is she really really pretty?"

"I have no judgement on such things!" Kiku said, holding his hands out in front of him.

"Enough," Ludwig said. "We must go to this place. Tomorrow morning, we will start searching for the amulet. Feliciano, your intuition will be our greatest tool here. You must remember what your grandfather told you. We must search the entire city if we have to."

"Right! Oh, this is so exciting! I hope we can find it here!"

* * *

Arthur yawned as he descended the stairs into the foyer. Harsh sunlight was streaming through the windows of the chateau. Already he could hear voices and smell the mouthwatering scent of breakfast from down below. He tried to fix his hair with a swipe of his hands and rubbed vestiges of sleepiness from his eyes.

He had not slept very much on account of waiting for midnight to talk to Matthew, and that meeting had not gone as planned. First, Alfred, in a belated attempt to console his brother about the issue of his size, had rushed down the stairs near midnight to talk to Matthew for an hour before returning to bed inside. Then Francis, after waiting for Alfred to finish, had taken his turn with Matthew, and by the time he was done, Arthur was much too tired to even concentrate on what he had wanted to discuss, so he had given up and returned to bed himself.

"You used the robe," was the first thing he heard when he entered the dining room. It was Yao, and he was dressed strangely like he himself was of Amotoile. His deep brown hair was tied back in a blue ribbon like the ones Francis wore, and he had a blue vest very similar to Francis' attire the first day Arthur had met him.

He looked down at the crimson robe. It had been hanging on his doorknob when he woke up and was the only clean thing to wear in his room. He could only assume that Francis, as the host, had left it there, and as much as he didn't want to wear a human's clothing, the red silk seemed inviting and comfortable to wear in the morning.

He sat down next to Yao, who was sipping a hot breakfast tea. "Where is Francis?"

"Working at a hopeless cause," Yao replied. As if on cue, a screech was heard from a few doors down.

"It will never work," Ivan said.

"What will never work?"

"Francis thinks that if Alfred wears scissors on his belt, the guards will let him through the city gates without checking him with their scissors," Yao explained.

"And Little Francis is having trouble getting him to wear them."

Arthur scoffed. "Of course he's having trouble. You remember what happened when I simply _held_ scissors in front of him. I bet he isn't letting Francis get within ten meters of him in that room."

"He can't go into the city," Yao said simply. "Ivan and I have already been there. It's full to the brim with other wards against his kind. If they really work, he'll either go crazy or get a nasty cold within a day. And the problem is, he's possibly our best weapon. None of the dog-man's team have even seen him as his presentable self."

"Right. And he can change his appearance."

"Not wearing them! Not wearing them! You can't make me!" Alfred burst from the other room and joined the others, his face red with frustration. He, too, was dressed in new Amotoile garb, even with a pair of white silk gloves on his hands. A very short ponytail was tied in the back with a dark blue ribbon. "Just, just let me be a bird or something," he sulked. "I'll be a bird, and when we get into the city, I'll be a human."

"You have nowhere to transform in the city," Francis forced.

"I'll find somewhere!"

"Not if you are a bird transforming into a person. Even if you can find some place private, one of us will have to bring you clothes, and that will only bring suspicion."

"Why are you so worked up about this, anyway?"

"Because it is a traitorous act to part the salt ring, and if I bring _more_ suspicion on any of our behalf, then we're all going to be in big trouble."

Alfred put his head on the table. "Well, I don't want you to be a traitor," he whined. "I don't, but I can't wear them."

"You have to try, Alfred," Yao said. "We need your powers in the city."

"Right, so I _use_ my powers to get _into_ the city as a bird."

"I believe that idea was already shot down," Arthur said wryly.

"Oh, you think you're so funny."

"It was funny joke," Ivan affirmed.

"So what? How're _you_ going to get in? You're an Isle fairy, and you can't hide your ears if you're bad at illusions. What if they think _you're_ a changeling?"

"Really? I'm bad at illusions, am I?" Arthur asked. With a proud smile, he pushed some white-wine hair behind a flawless, rounded ear.

Alfred gasped. "Really? Now I'm the only one."

"I am impressed," said Francis. "And I _know_ that you are a fairy. Have you perfected that spell?"

"Yes," Arthur said. But behind his smug looks, he commended himself on the perfectly-brewed dark potion he'd made to give him the looks he needed to pass as human. He hadn't even needed to rid himself of his magic. Just nice, round ears were all those smug humans needed to see. He furtively peered at Francis' hands, not yet covered by gloves. One of those scratches he had not received from being in the woods so long.

"I don't buy it," Alfred said. He reached out and tugged one of the ears. "These feel _real."_ He brought his eyes close to Arthur's. "You don't have any Depth, but I could swear those aren't illusory. Even I could make the image of your stab wound go away if I believed enough. When you're ready to confess it's dark magic, I'm all ears." He grinned at his own funny joke and relaxed in his chair.

"It's not dark magic," Arthur replied briskly.

"Arthur, now that you are awake, I would like you to have a look into the wardrobe as well. You play the part of a human, so you should borrow some of my clothes. You are a guest of honor in the city," Francis said.

"I'll be quite all right," Arthur replied. "No need to wear something uncomfortable."

"No need to wear something uncomfortable," Alfred mimicked. His eyes darted down to the scissors hanging loose in Francis' hand, and he trembled in feverish self-control.

Francis heaved a sigh. "Are you afraid of burning? Is that it?"

"Well, some, but they just have this weird aura of danger around them. It's like we're the same end of the magnet repelling each other. If you see a snake in the grass, you don't step on it. If I see scissors on a windowsill, I don't go near it."

"What if they are on your belt and you don't see them? Why is that such a big deal?"

"I'd feel their weight and heat on my leg. Then I'd just look down in an attempt to stop them from burning through the pants."

An idea suddenly occurred to Arthur. "Alfred, what if you were holding them? When you gave me the scissors to burn you, you held them steadily and you didn't look scared."

"I _was_ scared."

"But you held them with the conviction to get them to Arthur. You wanted to prove a point," Yao said. "And you had gloves on. You're wearing gloves now."

"You think they'd let me in if I was just holding them? I guess I'd have to try not to look down or I'd startle myself. Probably whip them at someone."

"You would hold them steady, though?" Arthur asked. "You would look natural?"

"It would be like acting a part," Francis said. "That's something you're good at."

Alfred closed his eyes and breathed a long sigh. "Give me the scissors." He held out his gloved hand. Francis did so, and Alfred gripped around the closed blades. He slowly opened his eyes and held the scissors down at his side. It was obviously taking a huge amount of effort to concentrate on looking ahead without looking down at them, but Alfred bit his lip and stared ahead like his burden was but simple.

"Is it uncomfortable?" Francis asked.

"They're hot," he replied. "Not burning, though. It's like putting your hand close to the flames but not letting them lick you. My leather gloves might be better. That's why I have them."

"Good and fine. Wear the leather ones if they will assuage your fears."

"And blindfold yourself, and don't breathe," Yao whispered in Arthur's ear.

Alfred tried holding the scissors again with his leather gloves, and when he professed that this only caused a slight nervousness and nothing of the gripping fear, the matter was settled. He could enter the city and not be checked by the guards.

Later on, Arthur was forced to try on human clothing. He scowled in the foyer and muttered about Francis and his obsession with eyebrow grooming. Alfred came, giggling, to stand by him.

"Bet you were a changeling now, huh?"

"I'd still have to wear these stupid clothes," Arthur grumbled.

"Aw, they're not too bad. You get used to wearing different things when your shape changes. I know I could get used to wearing your waistcoats and sweater vests."

"I know you could," Arthur ground. "I watched you traipse around wearing my shape."

"Why are all your muscles so stiff?"

"Don't ask me questions like that. They just make me feel uncomfortable. 'Oh, why are your muscles stiff?' 'How do you know that?' 'Because I was _using them.'"_

Alfred shrugged and stifled a laugh. "Are you scared of me yet?"

"I'm not scared of you."

He took off his glasses and looked Arthur in the eyes. Arthur gazed into the unnatural blue depths shimmering with dark power. Then he looked away and walked out the front door of the chateau, shivering.

"Good morning, Lord Arthur."

He jumped at the sudden voice and turned to see Matthew trotting toward him. He was massaging a sore neck. Pale strips of hay clung to his fur and hair.

"Ah, good morning, Unseen," he said awkwardly. Had Matthew stayed up all night waiting for him?

"Unseen," Matthew echoed. "Is that the game you were playing in there? Trying to make my name literal?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I was standing right next to the drawing room window trying to hear what you were talking about, but you never acknowledged me. Was it a jest?"

Arthur held back his tongue when _You were?_ came to mind. He had not seen Matthew standing near the drawing room window or near any window. What he said was, "Of course, a jest. Sorry if you didn't understand."

Matthew screwed up his face. "Nice try. It was my jest. I know you didn't see me."

"I didn't," Arthur admitted.

"I stole something from fairies once a long time ago. It's a kind of dust that makes me invisible if I take it with water. It has nothing to do with how I got my name, but sometimes I do use it to conceal myself. I was playing with you. I was near the window, and you couldn't see me. What were you talking about in there? I couldn't hear through the glass."

"Ah, trying to figure out how to get everyone into the city without suspicion or extra attention. The simple answer is: we won't."

"Of course," Matthew sighed. "Especially not if I come with you. Last night, Alfred and Francis came to visit me, and they both wanted to figure out how I could come with you and help you. Francis told me about wide paths in the city where I could walk and not run into anyone, but he doesn't realize how tall I really am now. I was shorter than him the last time we had such an intimate conversation. If, of course, you can imagine anyone of my kind being so small. I don't see where I'm stepping most of the time, and I'm very heavy. I wouldn't see if a youngling were to dash in front of me."

"Matthew, I can turn you into a human."

The Homoalces stopped talking and stared bewildered down at the fairy lord. His lips parted, anxious for words, but he found none. He reached up to stroke one furry ear as if wondering what it would feel like to lose it, then trailed his fingers over a hard, bony paddle.

"I can," he added. "That's what I wanted to speak to you about. Alfred and Francis beat me to you. I'm a magician, Matthew. I can change you so you can navigate this smaller world and be closer to your friends."

"A... full human?" He shook his head in wonder. "I couldn't walk on just two."

"Perhaps if you'd like to think about it for a little bit, I'll give you some time. It would be simple. Do you see my ears? I changed them the same way I could change you. A little potion made with, erm, a bit of human. I assure you it wouldn't be permanent. I'd make you an antidote to change you back whenever you wanted." _I sound maniacal,_ he thought, biting his lip.

"Two hooves," Matthew muttered. "Two hooves. Two hooves. Only two. But how do you balance on just two?"

"I could show you," Arthur said quickly. He stared at the ground. "But first I need to know if you're interested. You seemed very disappointed last night, and I know I can help you. It's banned magic, yes, but it wouldn't be forever. You could enjoy the life with Francis like you've always wanted to."

Matthew huffed. He dug in the dirt with a front hoof. His face turned pink. "I shouldn't have poured my heart out to you last night. I'm so sorry. Don't gamble your magical freedom with me, please. Besides, I'd have to learn how to walk and balance, and I'd just be a burden."

"No trouble, really! I'm far past being afraid of using my talents, Matthew. It's the Council's fault for letting me go on a mission where they can't monitor my every move. And we could teach you to walk on just two legs. I just thought—"

"Would it be painful?"

Arthur looked up into questioning lilac eyes. "Er, I suppose not. Half of you is already the desired form. It might be uncomfortable, but I assure you not unbearable. We'd have to get you some clothes. Francis has them."

"Wear clothes…" And then Matthew's eyes lit with an ecstatic gleam of understanding. "Human. I could do human things, just like in the stories! I can speak Amotoile's language! Francis taught me! I'll do it, Arthur. If you say it's not forever, then I'll take the small bit of time. Although really, just two! How in Sunset Country do you walk on only two hooves?"

"Somehow. Listen, Matthew, it will take some time to make a potion for a creature of your stature. I assume I can get it done by late tonight. I don't yet know what our plans are for today. We've convinced Alfred to carry scissors with him so he isn't checked at the gates, but Yao says with the wards against him, he won't be able to handle a day in the city."

"I hope he doesn't hurt himself."

"Good morning, _big_ brother," Alfred said as he came out onto the lawn to join them. He gave a strange wink when he said it, as if there were more to the phrase than just the obvious. "Listen, Artie, here's how it's gonna go down today. Francy says that if all of us go into the city at one time, and the quarry are there, they'll see us and be wary of us. Today's mission will be to find them and see where they're staying and what they're doing. It'll be a small group of us: Francis, Yao, and me. With the information we collect today, we'll be able to figure out how to deal with them tomorrow and in the coming days. Maybe we can even be done today if I can get alone with the fairy. Mattie, I tried to tell him you should come with, too, but, well, you _are_ the one who kicked the dog-man."

"I understand," Matthew said. He gave a small smile to Arthur. If he were human, perhaps the dog-man wouldn't even recognize him.

"Good to know, Alfred. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find myself a proper sweater vest."


	24. Feliciano, Thou Art Changed

"Brother! Open this damn door! I know you're in there!"

Feliciano hugged his pillow. His mind was still hazy with a dream. His body tingled with the shadow of blissful paralysis. He gave a soft, mewling yawn and cracked his eyes open. The light of morning stung, and the air wheezing through the window was uncomfortably cold. He nuzzled his cheek into the warm plushness. Perhaps it was just a lasting mirage of his fantasy. No one was banging on his door. No one was angrily telling him to wake and open it. The doorknob seemed so far away, and sleep was so close and welcoming.

Then that someone was banging again. Feliciano jerked up and pushed his pillow aside. He looked down at himself and saw that he was nearly naked. That wouldn't do for any man who wanted to see him. A lovely lady on the other hand...

Feliciano shook his head and reluctantly slipped out of bed. His head pulsed and his limbs felt suddenly weak. Wrapping the counterpane around him like a cloak, he stepped over to the door and yawned. Then he turned the handle. The door was too heavy in his feeble, dreamy state.

"I don't think you have the right person," he drawled as the door swung slowly open. "I'm Feliciano."

"I _know_ you're Feliciano! I've been looking for you for ages! Do you know how far I had to fly and how many annoying people I had to talk to? I wanted to be free of work and irritation and just lie around when I got home, but then I find you've gone and left me no note saying where the hell you went!"

The accent was severe. Rolled Rs and lilted like a poem. Feliciano's eyes snapped open. The stranger's face was a mirror of his own, but with a practiced scowl and a complexion tanned from hours of outdoor grunt work. His shoulders and cheeks were a blotchy two-tone.

" _V-veh?_ Lovino, what are you doing here?"

"I shouldn't have to explain myself again. I just asked you that same question."

He looked down, and at once his apprehension about only wearing the counterpane abated. "I was — well, did Grandpa ever tell you about a treasure he hid somewhere?"

"No," his brother grunted. "What does that have to do with anything? Why did you leave me no note as to your whereabouts?"

"How did you find me here?"

Lovino took one hand, balled it into a fist, and punched his brother in the chest. He almost stumbled from the blow. "It doesn't matter how I found you. I did. You tell me what you're doing here without telling me!"

"Come in! I'll explain!" Feliciano reached for his brother's hand, but Lovino strode into the room without any assistance. His wings trailed on the ground behind him. They were longer than Feliciano's, and unlike his bright, golden-flecked wings, these were a dull greenish-brown like boiled grape leaves.

"This is a nice hotel," Lovino remarked. "Are you staying here by yourself? Just leave me alone while you go and indulge in all the pretty ladies of Amotoile? You think I didn't notice that chick working downstairs?"

"Well, no, it's not just me! There's also Doggie and Kiku. They're my friends. Lovi, please don't be angry with me. I forgot to tell you because I was so excited about going!"

"You have _companions!?_ Wait, what kind of a name is _'Doggie?'_ "

"It's just a nickname. His real name is L-loo, Loota-vig. I call him Doggie because he turns into a dog-man at night. He's a human, but he's cursed. A mean wizard cursed him for trespassing into his land. He looks scary, but he's actually very nice. And besides, I've seen scarier things on this quest. I was swapped with a changeling. That was _really_ scary. His name was Alfred, but I don't think that was his real name. What kind of scary monster name is that, anyway? He's part of a group of mercenaries after us. There's also a snow demon and a member of the knights of Amotoile! But I think the scariest of all of them is a fairy without any wings from the Isle of Rain. He's a lord, and you know what they say about lords. They're usually very evil or end up being your true love, and I'm certainly not interested! They think Doggie's using me to get the amulet for a dark wizard, but I know his brother Gilbert isn't a dark wizard at all. He's just a collector of magical artifacts. Wow, I have to tell you about a lot of things!"

A muscle twitched in Lovino's jaw. He made a noise in his throat — a guttural lack of understanding from his brother's nervous flood of information. The olive-colored eyes slipped out of their angry angles and stared, unsure of what to convey, at the younger fairy's squint.

"Kiku is a—"

"Brother, what in the name of all the good pizza in the world are you doing so far from Allegria?"

"Going on a quest to find a magical amulet that may or may not exist and be the treasure Grandpa told me about when I was a little _bambino._ Please just let me explain."

"Explain _slowly,"_ Lovino said with warning.

"It all started when I got this letter from someone in Volkerburg named Gilbert. He told me there was a magic wishing amulet called a _sogno,_ and if someone who isn't Allegrian has the magic wand that goes with it, he can use its fairy power to grant wishes! You see, Gilbert had the wand, but he didn't have the amulet, so he asked me about it since the wand actually belonged to Grandpa. It has his name in it. I said I would meet him in Lafée. But it turned out that Gilbert was sick, so he sent his brother instead. That's Doggie. And also I agreed to give Doggie the amulet when we find it."

"Grandpa told you about this amulet?" Lovino grabbed at the crimson fabric over his chest. His face started to flush with frustration and a deep, stirring jealousy.

"Well, he told me he had hidden a fantastic treasure for me to find, and I just figured that this amulet could be that treasure. It seems to fit."

"Feliciano," Lovino started, "if Grandpa really told you about this, then it would be your inheritance, wouldn't it?"

"Of course."

"Then why are you giving it to a complete stranger?" Lovino's own wayward curl of hair bounced feverishly. He stood rigid at the prospect of such a powerful object being a family heirloom. His countenance was starting to look like a ripening tomato in the sun.

"Because I agreed to give it to him out of the goodness of my heart. He's not deceiving me."

The response was mechanical. Feliciano's eyes dimmed as he said it. Was that the truth? He knew it to be the pure truth, but he tried to remember exactly when he had promised to give his companion the treasure. Was it in the letters they sent back and forth? Was it in the forest when they had first met? Had he thought of giving his treasure away his whole life for someone else to enjoy? A rasping voice in his mind was telling him to forget about it. It wasn't important when he had promised to give Doggie the amulet. The only important thing was that he had promised. And it was out of the goodness of his heart. The matter had been settled long before he began to question it.

He realized he was zoning out when Lovino punched him again. "You stupid brother! You barely know this man and you want to give him something that once belonged to the powerful Roma? If this amulet exists, then it's a fairy family treasure! Is this man even noble?"

"I don't know, but I think he deserves to have it!"

"No, he doesn't! It's a trick!"

"You lie!" Feliciano retorted. "You don't know Doggie! And besides, it's my inheritance! I'm just giving it to someone I trust! I can do whatever I want with it!"

"Sure, sure, just give away an incredible object like that after you've just found it!" When Feliciano only pouted at this, Lovino pulled out the card he usually reserved for emergencies and major pity parties. "How come Grandpa didn't tell _me_ about this treasure, eh? I'm the older brother. Maybe I should have a little shot at finding a powerful magic object, too. You got the estate and all the vineyards."

"Oh, _fratello,_ please don't bring up family politics. I don't know why he didn't tell you."

"Because you were his favorite!"

"No! He loved you too! I don't even know if this amulet is the treasure! Maybe it's actually something we can share together!"

"We can share an amulet," Lovino sulked. He crossed his arms, and his wings twitched in annoyance.

The younger gave a nervous smile. "I'm giving that to Doggie," he sing-songed.

"Have you been enchanted or something!?" Lovino roared. He pushed up his sleeve and prepared to give his brother what he was asking for. Then, he realized another idea. He turned toward the door. Feliciano was holding his arms over his chest like a mummy in order to shield himself. "Where is this 'Doggie?' I'd like to give him a piece of my mind, eh? He shouldn't be messing with you. I don't care how charming he is. If this magic amulet exists, it should _stay_ in the House of Roma."

"H-he's in a room a few doors down. Let me get dressed first."

"I don't need you in there trying to object. I'm going to ask this stupid fu—"

"I heard a disturbance, Fairy-ciano. Is everything all right?" It was Kiku, and he had just floated through the door with his usual expressionless countenance.

Feliciano flung the counterpane around himself once more. He tried to explain to Kiku that his brother had suddenly appeared to visit, but Lovino readily explained for him. The older fairy pointed a finger at the spirit and screamed in fear. His wings quivered violently, and his legs shook with them.

"Holy mountain of tomatoes and all that surrounds it! What in all the sunlit fields of Piamenta is that!? Why can I see through you, eh!? I don't deal nicely with ghosts!"

"Calm down, brother! It's Kiku! He's a friendly spirit! Don't be scared!"

"Brother?" Kiku asked thoughtfully. "Is this your brother? He does look like you."

"He _is_ my brother. He's Lovi. Oh, please stop shouting! He's not going to haunt you!"

* * *

Ludwig finished dressing and exited the room to find out what the commotion was. He had heard Feliciano screaming, and someone else was screaming with him. The voice was much deeper, but it still carried the same musical lilt to it that Feliciano had. Ludwig's heart chilled when he caught fragments of their argument. Someone was trying to convince Feliciano that his companion was deceiving him?

That was all too familiar.

He clenched his teeth and took in the scent of fresh flowers as he stepped into the carpeted hall. The rooms on this floor were either filled with silence or the sound of giggling, and in one, angry screaming. He stood outside Feliciano's door and listened. Kiku must have entered. The noisy, unknown voice was shouting curses and different types of pasta and something about a transparent ghost-man whom the owner of the voice had more balls than.

"Who is this now?" Ludwig whispered. "Another damn new recruit just like that hoofed creature? How many have they got? Or… or is this the changeling?" He thrust open the door, prepared to take on whoever was yelling. He hadn't his dog-man's strength, but he was still bigger and stronger than most. Instantly, all attention was upon him.

"That's Doggie! Here, talk to him! Doggie, explain that I'm giving the amulet to you!" Feliciano turned a man who could've been his brother to face him. He squinted and puffed out his cheeks at the interruption of his screaming.

Ludwig did not intend to do this peacefully. "I command you to freeze, changeling!" He pointed at the look-alike and narrowed his eyes into a serious glare. The look-alike stood rigid. He stopped shouting at Kiku, and his face twisted into an even more gnarled confusion.

"Changeling!?" Feliciano shrieked. "Where!?" These were the only two words he got out before his gesticulations ceased. His face froze in shock at the look-alike, and in an instant, he stopped moving entirely.

" _Fratello!?"_ The look-alike shouted. His shimmery olivine gaze shifted between fairy and human and back. " _Fratellino,_ what are you doing? He waved his hand in front of Feliciano's face. The amber-gold eyes gave no reaction. They stared blankly and expressionless. Faint sounds came from his suspended mouth, but they were barely lucid.

The look-alike turned to Ludwig. "So you're this 'Doggie' my little brother is so charmed by?" His countenance went from confused to cross. "You're traveling with him to find some kind of magic amulet?"

"I am. Who are you, now?"

"I'm Lovino Vargas, with or without the Roma on the end!" He took his finger and jabbed at Ludwig's brawny chest. "How'd you do that, eh? Why is he standing stupid like that? What kind of crazy-shit sorcery are you playing with, human? Why're you trying to get into my brother's head and turn his brain to spaghetti? I mean, he hasn't got much of a brain in the first place, but that still gives you no right to take advantage of him!"

Ludwig had to think of something quick. Why had he chosen to accuse Lovino of being a changeling so quickly? Now Feliciano had been afflicted by Gilbert's mind-warp, and he was standing frozen with a fear that didn't exist. He hadn't realized that if Lovino was a changeling, Feliciano probably would've assumed this first, and he would already be frozen. Ludwig looked at the statue-like fairy out of the corner of his eye. The magic had taken Gilbert's word "frozen" a bit too seriously.

"Just who are you, anyway?" Lovino continued. "When did you start writing letters to an Allegrian nobleman? Why is he so attached to you that he wants to give you his family treasure? And what's all this about you being cursed? I don't want a monster talking all sweet to my brother, buttering him up like he's hot farfalle."

"I'm not buttering him up," Ludwig retorted. "And you hardly gave me any time to introduce myself."

Lovino pulled back his hand and crossed his arms. He averted his gaze and started muttering."You're just a stupid human. It's only natural you're greedy for fantastic power."

"And what do you do, Lovino?"

"Eh? I'm a garden fairy, but I'm off work now, so I'm not interested in talking about it. What do _you_ do, _Doggie?"_

"Please call me Ludwig."

"Ugh, _that_ name really is monster-worthy. Now answer! What do you do, and why are you here with my brother?"

 _Damn,_ Ludwig thought, _I could be so close to getting that amulet, and then_ he _shows up. How does Gilbert come up with those lies on the spot so easily?_

He didn't get much more time to think because Lovino dug his fingernails into Ludwig's meaty shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. "Now that I think about it, I didn't see a wand on you when you entered the room. I know for a fact that creatures of darkness show their true selves in their eyes. Perhaps you're the one who should be accusing yourself. Are you putting dark spells on him?"

Ludwig only hardened his icy glare. On impulse, he shoved Lovino away so forcefully that he stumbled on the floor and fell. He got up slowly, his face full of fresh ire.

"I'm not a creature of darkness," Ludwig snapped. "I am Ludwig of Volkerburg, and Feliciano only wants to lend me the amulet. I'm not keeping it forever. I only need it to break my curse. It may not even be your brother's inheritance at all. What are you doing?"

Lovino held Feliciano's jaw in one hand, squishing his cheeks and peering into his eyes. He snapped his fingers a few times. Nothing happened. He closed his eyes for a second, then snapped again. This time, a shower of green sparks burst from his fingertips. Still, the younger didn't rouse. "Felice?" He asked, his frustrated features melting into concern. "Snap out of it! What dark spell is it? Tell me! What did this man do to you? Can you hear me? Speak!"

"I didn't make him freeze," Ludwig interrupted. "I don't have any magic at all. You said it yourself. I'm not carrying a wand, and I'm nothing but a human."

"Well, _something_ magic is wrong with him!" Lovino exclaimed. "That little spell was supposed to unstun him, and it usually works! If it doesn't work, there's more to the story, and I can only believe it's an enchantment that brought him into this state!" He turned to look at Ludwig once more. "I don't trust you."

"I've never seen him do that before, and I'm not the one who enchanted him — if that's what it is."

"He froze when you accused one of us of being a changeling. Now, he's always been a coward when someone screams about one, but this is unnatural. Felice, there is no changeling!" Lovino snapped again in front of his brother's face. "What's your big idea, eh? Why did you think there was a changeling? Why would you think of freaking him out like that? Someone merely says the word and he bolts out with incredible speed. Except for _now._ "

"I thought _you_ were a changeling," Ludwig explained. "We've had troubles with them on this quest. I heard your voice and thought you had maybe half-transformed into him. Perhaps he believes you are dangerous."

"You heard my _voice?_ You heard my voice," Lovino scoffed. He saw the scissors resting on Feliciano's nightstand and snatched them up. He held them out so Ludwig could see and laughed in saucy arrogance. "You look so very stupid now, don't you? I have the scissors in my hand. I'm not a terrifying, em, _disgusting_ hardly-a-fairy."

"W-what?" Feliciano asked weakly. At Lovino's proving of himself, the statue had gone limp and fallen down onto the floor. "What happened?"

"Felice, you're awake!" Lovino exclaimed with frightful concern. However, immediately after the outburst, he returned his face to its scowl and crossed his arms. "You've come out of that freaky statue state," he said a bit more quietly.

"Statue state? What do you mean by that? I don't remember anything. Why did I fall?" He rubbed his head.

"I believe that Fairy-ciano has a strange ailment he must have picked up somewhere along our journey," Kiku said.

Lovino turned and noticed the transparent man again. "Holy crapola!" He grabbed onto Ludwig's muscled arm fearfully and pulled it in front of him. "You can't go scaring people like that! I'm just a poor garden fairy who grows tomatoes, and I know I sulk all the time, but I'm not ready to be dragged into the pits of hell where it's cold and nothing ever grows!"

 _Not as tough as he looks. Relatively the same as the other,_ Ludwig noted.

"It happened, didn't it? I can't really explain it, but it happened back in the forest, too, when that man in black chased me. Before I woke up with the kidnappers. Doggie, you came into the room and said something, something about a changeling nearby, and I felt like I was... seizing up with fear. I couldn't move anymore. I couldn't hear anything. I don't remember…"

"The other time it happened, you thought there was a changeling near you, too," Kiku continued. "Could that be it? Like a strange defense mechanism. Your body and mind froze."

Feliciano got up and freshly wrapped the counterpane robe around his waist. "That doesn't make any sense," he said softly. "Usually, when I hear a changeling is near, I run away. I felt like I wanted to this time, but I couldn't."

"There has been a change in you," Ludwig remarked. It was more or less the truth.

"You've been enchanted! Spelled! Cursed!" Lovino shouted from behind his shield of a man. "I used my unstunning spell and it didn't even work!"

"That's not good!" The fairy squealed. "Doggie! I was able to run away before! Why can't I run away anymore? Why do I freeze up?"

The memory of Gilbert bending down and speaking so charmingly to the fairy flashed by. Ludwig saw the amber-gold eyes blurred with the reddish gleam of the dark fairy's power. He cursed himself inside. It was he who suggested Gilbert add the clause about freezing up to his "dirty charm."

 _Scheiße, that's gotta be how they got him last time. They took advantage of his frozen state, and the changeling slipped right into his shape and situation. What if he comes to take him again? I can't let that happen._

Kiku's next statement seemed to abate his guilt. "I believe it would be rational to assume those mercenaries did it to you," he told the fairy. "Perhaps they put a spell on you for good measure so if you escaped, all they would have to do is convince you there was a changeling nearby, or show one to you, and they could easily take you away for questioning again. Perhaps it was even 'Alfred' who enchanted you."

"No!" He whined fearfully. "No! They couldn't have! Why do they want to lie to me so much? I bet they really do want the amulet for themselves!"

"That is a good inference." Kiku said.

"Mercenaries? Slow down, here. Just who are these _mercenaries?_ I heard you say something earlier, but you talk too damn fast for anyone to understand you," Lovino said.

"A group of bad people," Feliciano tried to hastily explain. "They've been following us. They put a changeling in my place and tried to convince me that Doggie's not my friend and he's lying to me."

"What? That makes perfect sense! This stupid human ' _Doggie'_ is obviously planting lies in your head. Why else would you want to give him your inheritance?"

"So I can break my _curse,"_ Ludwig stressed.

"Yeah! Doggie has a curse to break! He _needs_ the amulet so he can wish it away. I will not listen to you if you keep saying Doggie is a liar."

"I still don't trust you," Lovino muttered. "So you've got mercenaries after you. I agree with what they're trying to say, but you think they've planted dark spells in your mind, too?"

"They must have," said Kiku. "Fairy-ciano was unaware of what kind of creature was chasing him that night. Not one of us got a proper look at him. If he was a changeling like Fairy-ciano suspected, he could have cursed him so he froze and then changed into him while he was unable to fight back. Fairy-ciano would of course have no memory of this."

"I don't know who to trust," Lovino said with fresh frustration. "Felice, I want to go home. I want to relax and do absolutely nothing right now, and I don't want you being around greedy humans."

"But he needs my amulet, and I'm the only one who knows the clues Grandpa gave me to find it. I have to give it to him. I agreed!"

"What did you say?"

" _Veh?"_

"What did you say to him when you agreed? How did you word it? What were the circumstances?"

Feliciano stood unable to think or remember. His memory strained until his head hurt.

"You don't remember, do you? You don't remember what you said. He planted a false memory in your head. That's gotta be it. He's only making you think you agreed."

"No! I _did_ agree! I said 'I agree to give you the amulet out of the goodness of my heart once we find it.' Doggie, you remember me agreeing to give it to you, right? Please tell Lovi it's true."

"He did agree. I remember him saying that. It was while we were walking in the forest, wasn't it, Feliciano?" Ludwig said.

Guilty uncertainty throbbed in his chest again. Feliciano had no such memory. It was what Lovino said. A lie. A deception. And the mercenaries were right, too, though they were wrong in believing Gilbert might use the amulet for malicious purposes. (Ludwig couldn't care less what Gilbert did to Basch.) _I'm giving it back,_ he assured himself. _Once Gilbert and I have used it for our purposes, we_ will _give it back to him. It's not a malevolent trick on his mind. It's only to… push him a little bit. Get him to trust me and make it easier to get what Gilbert and I want… buttering him up._

Feliciano scrunched his nose. "I remember," he replied hesitantly. "It was definitely in the forest when I agreed to give it to you. You need it so you can undo your curse. I think that's wonderful. You won't have to be in so much pain with such a terrible temper. You won't be Doggie, anymore, though. I'll have to call you something different."

"I remember witnessing the agreement," Kiku said. "Fairy-ciano did in fact agree to give Doggie-san that amulet because his heart is good and fair."

Lovino still frowned. "He's _taking_ it, Felice. You say it's a fairy amulet. Why can't you just use it to heal him yourself? Why do you have to give it to him?"

"Because I agreed. I put my heart into an agreement, and I'm not taking it away. I trust Doggie. He's my friend, and I know that whatever he decides to do with the amulet won't be bad. I don't care if he doesn't give it back to me. I don't care that it's my inheritance and I'm giving it away."

"Felice," Lovino muttered almost silently. "You are… changed."

"It's true," Feliciano replied.

Lovino looked to Ludwig. "Is it true what _you_ said, you mundane? Are you giving it back?"

"I _will_ give it back; I am completely honest with you."

"You don't have to give it back, Doggie. I'm giving it to you because you're my friend. My good, fair heart commands it."

"I will use it, Feliciano, but I will give it back to you when I am done. I'm not keeping it forever. You deserve to have it."

"Not as much as you do."

"Believe me, you deserve it more than me. I greatly appreciate our agreement, though."

"Ugh! This is too sappy! Fine! Do what you will,but if this stupid, greedy human doesn't give that amulet back, I'm going to show him what we Allegrian fairies are really made of!"

 _Carbohydrates?_ Ludwig guessed with a furtive smirk.

"After scouting out the ladies of this city, I'm going home," Lovino continued. "You are to write to me every week in full detail." He shifted uncomfortably before mumbling, "I don't want you getting hurt. Hold your scissors strong and proud."

"I will, Lovi. I will. I'm sorry I forgot to tell you. I won't let changelings steal me away anymore. I promise. I'm going to find this amulet and give it to Doggie, and he can keep it if he wants —"

"I don't want to keep it. I want to give it back after I've used it."

"Well, I hope so," Lovino grunted, giving one last contemptuous glance toward the human. He strode out of the room with his shoulders hunched. "Like hell I'm going home," he said to himself. "I don't trust that human, and I'm too tired to fly all the way back to Allegria. If my brother's mind has been messed with, I'm going to find these 'mercenaries' and give them a piece of my mind. I may be as weak as Felice at times, but if I put my mind to it, I can still use the strength of Roma, dammit."

* * *

 **~N~**

 **No axis-vs-allies story is complete without the tater hater.  
**

 **So yes, Feliciano snaps out of being frozen when the "changeling" is no longer dangerous or near him. Or in the previous case, he's knocked out and comes to.  
**


	25. Searching for Magic

Alfred was getting more and more annoyed. Firstly, his wrist was starting to hurt.

"I am going to try something," Yao had told him not long after they had entered the city. He looked around for a few seconds before his face brightened in discovery. "Look over there," he said, and pointed to a first-story townhouse window.

Alfred looked as he was told and was met with the sight of a particularly large pair of sewing shears on the windowsill. Abruptly, he jumped back, a curse exploding from his mouth. His muscles contracted as if his true form was making sure it was hidden.

Then, Yao seized his wrist and jabbed his thumb into a spot on the underside just below his hand.

"What are you trying to do?"

"There is a pressure point here," Yao explained. "It will help you relax and your energy to flow better."

"I'm fine," he argued. And slowly, his little retort became accurate. He turned his eyes back to the shears, but the anxiety associated with them seemed muted and distant. Of course, he still didn't want to go near them.

"Did you see and feel where I was pressing? That is not the only pair of scissors in this city. If you see some, press in that spot and try to relax. Don't react to what you see. Count backwards from ten and breathe."

The scissors really were everywhere. Alfred spotted them on windowsills, on nightstands, hanging from door frames, on the belts of the city guards, and in the hands of girls sewing on balconies. He could hear them faintly snipping. Each time, he speedily averted his gaze and pressed on his wrist. He pressed until he could feel the constricted veins pumping and his hand tingled with numbness. True, he felt much less anxious, but it was getting too repetitive. After an hour, his hand was throbbing.

Francis was not helping. There seemed to be a deeply yet carelessly stifled fear in him about confronting Alfred's discomfort. He never once said anything even furtive about you-know-what. His position, as he saw it, was to proudly lead Alfred and Yao around the city, talking endlessly about the people, the flowers, the buildings, the history, et cetera. Alfred thought he was starting to sound a bit vain about how much he loved the place. He was certainly tossing his platinum hair a lot more often and moving suavely through the sights and sounds.

"Hey, Francy," he interrupted in the middle of Francis' statistics pertaining to single women in bistros, "do you think it's gonna get less cloudy?"

Francis cocked an eyebrow. He looked up into the sky. "I don't believe so. It's not the warmest today, but I don't think the clouds will leave us anytime soon."

"Do you think it'll be sunnier soon?"

"Why are you interested?"

Alfred sidled up to Francis and cupped a hand around his mouth. "Do you know what I mean by 'sunny weather?' It's…" he looked around wildly. "It means it's okay to talk about you-know-what." He pointed down to Francis' hip where his own scissors were hanging. Yao had taken the scissors Alfred held earlier and put them in his pocket so the handles peeked out.

Francis seemed peeved. "It will not get sunny while we are here," he said warningly. Though he realized that Alfred's hand was trembling and pulled the two others quickly in between two apartment buildings. "Are you feeling all right? Is it too much for you?" His countenance lost all of his suave nature, and he looked genuinely concerned for once that morning.

"Nothing's too much for me. I wanna find our guys and know what they're planning. I don't wanna rest until we do."

"What do you need to talk about, then?" Francis asked. "I wish I could control this city, but the wards are in place for a reason. You're the only… _good_ you-know-what I've ever met."

"I'm not a perfect angel. But is there somewhere where there aren't so many wards?"

"The center of town did not have so many when I was here last," Yao offered. "Near the fountain."

"Ah, the fountain. I do need to show you two the fountain. A _magnifique_ place for spreading love and beauty."

"That sounds perfect. Another thing. Is there _food_ near this fountain?"

"You aren't thinking of stealing, are you?" Yao snapped.

"Of course not. Why'd I do that when everyone in this city's crazy paranoid? I saw a baby carriage with _nails_ in it. Right where the baby could roll over and hurt herself. Geez, do these people think someone like me is going to swoop in and take their kids while they're out on the street in broad daylight?"

Francis thrust his hand over Alfred's mouth. "Don't speak anymore. You have said too much, and it will protect you to keep these thoughts to yourself. Please, Alfred."

"I'm just saying it's stupid. They think I'm stupid."

Francis refused to listen, and Alfred stewed in fresh anxiety and annoyance when he brought them down street after street talking about this or that. To the changeling, it was all tedious trivia, and he was much too distracted to listen intently. The heavenly scent of food made his stomach groan. He eyed fresh bread and rich cheese and creamy sweet pastries. Crêpes were popular this time of day, filled with fruit and drizzled with chocolate and sugary glaze.

"I'm getting really hungry," he complained aloud when Francis finished up a speech about the headquarters for the Élan Company, where he used to work.

"We would sail all the way to the Northern Wilds, and then we would have to portage many hundreds of kilometers until we came to the forested, lake-filled Sunset Country, where Dinsmoor is. Alfred, you know where that is."

"Yeah, the giant moose-people make good maple syrup. Something that would be really tasty right now, along with some other food. I need to put something in my face-hole. Let's get to this fountain or wherever." He pressed hard on his wrist as some guards strode by in unison. The two of them were armed with more than scissors. He could smell them. They had bad-smelling herbs in their pockets. Alfred drew back and bit down on the inside of his lip. He had woken that morning with fresh, swollen cuts there. No doubt he'd changed in his sleep. One of the guards eyed him skeptically before continuing.

"If you are so insistent," Francis said with a flourish of his hand, "we will go to the fountain. However, I believe if it is good food you are searching for, we really must go to Marie."

"Marie?"

Marie, as it turned out, was a patisserie situated a few streets down through yet more accursed residential area. Alfred fancied himself as a gentleman constantly clutching his wrist with the other hand. Yao told him to stop pressing so hard and so often. He removed his gloves, and the tingling hand was much paler in comparison to the other.

"Should I press on the other wrist?"

"It will not work as well," Yao said.

"Here, Alfred," Francis said as he gestured for his companion to enter the patisserie. "You can have anything you'd like."

Alfred took this to mean he could also have _as much_ as he liked, and this led to the trio sitting on a nearby bench nearly half an hour later while he continued devouring cake with a wide smile. He bit into a large éclair and wiped filling from his lips. Alfred could easily feel his strength returning and his mood improving. With renewed confidence, he started pondering his quarry. It was possible that Feliciano let his guard down here in the city because of the salt ring. Maybe he danced around with his wings and person and quest clearly visible.

"Is that who I think it is?" Came a woman's voice. Alfred turned upward to see a girl about his apparent age standing behind the bench and looking down at Sir Francis. Her golden hair was almost curly and held out of her face by a bright green ribbon. There were lines in her face from smiling, but at this time, her expression was nearly the opposite. She looked worried and almost relieved to find whom she was looking for. Alfred saw the apprehension in her forest-green eyes. She clutched the back of the bench with manicured hands. She was not expecting an answer.

"Lady Emma, _bonjour,"_ Francis said. He stood up and took her hand to kiss. She looked at him with greater relief.

"Sir Francis, I have been waiting for you to return here."

"I heard of your plight, Lady Emma. You have been attacked again."

"Yes!" She exclaimed with fervor. "I almost had a hen stolen, and so many eggs taken! And I saw the creature. It was hideous. Like a scrawny white goblin with these hollow black eyes." She held her fingers up to mime just how large the creature's eyes were. "And razor-sharp teeth that were crooked in some places. Sir Francis, I demand extra attention to my bakery in the north. People come from miles away to taste my waffles, and my hens, my precious hens don't deserve this. You are a man of love and kindness, Sir Francis. Surely, you must not stand for this." Then, somewhat snidely, she said, "I was thinking of reporting you for negligence the last time you failed to provide proper attention."

"I'm going to… take a walk," Alfred said, though Francis did not seem to notice. He carried his last slice of cake with him as he walked away from the bench, taking maw-sized bites out of the warm moistness.

It wasn't that he felt sorry for Lady Emma. He really did. He hated to hear that a dark creature was making life hard for someone. It stained and tarnished his kind's reputation even further. Changelings stole children. They tore families apart. They made people feel sad and stupid.

No, what bothered Alfred was that he had lived like the "scrawny white goblin" had. He had felt that way once, a very long time ago. He had become so desperate and hungry and weak that irrational thought and instinct took over.

 _There were two. One was very happy and laughed, and the other one cried. The one who cried was very beautiful, but the one who laughed was also beautiful because he looked just like the one who cried. And the one who cried had to...  
_

"No!" Alfred forced as he ground through the crust of the bread. "I'm not thinking about that right now. I'm a hero, and my mission is to find Feliciano and the dog-man and that spirit dude, not to make myself feel terrible. Come on, Alfie, pull yourself together." He bit hungrily into the last bit of cake and wiped its chocolatey crumbs from his hands. His quarry had to be around here somewhere, and the first place he thought of to look was that fountain.

* * *

"What were the clues again?" Kiku asked as the trio approached the fountain. Feliciano had bought a canvas earlier, and he had brought paints from his home in Allegria. He was going to find the prettiest girl he saw and paint a picture of her. He just hoped she wouldn't be hard to find, as many of the girls he'd already seen were very, very beautiful.

With this question, Feliciano was taken back to a time and place where he could only remember happiness. He was very young, five or six, and he was sitting on the fountain. No, he wasn't sitting on the fountain. He was sitting on his grandfather's leg, and his grandfather was sitting on the fountain.

Roma guided Feliciano's hand as he held a paintbrush. The brush glided over the canvas, leaving a streak of color in its wake. It went from blank and white to a picture full of life and emotion. The picture was of a woman. Its model sat in a chair not too far away from where the tiny fairy and his grandpa sat. She held her head high, and her eyes twinkled.

"Smile, _per favore."_ Feliciano said in his squeaky voice.

The woman blushed, but she brought the corners of her lips up, and Feliciano studied her intently before dipping his brush in the paint again and bringing it up to paint the subject's lips all by himself. They were a rosy color, and he made them plump but soft. Kissable. His grandpa liked to kiss pretty ladies. He hoped he could kiss one someday, too.

Another memory floated by. Feliciano and Roma were walking in the vineyard of Roma Villa. Feliciano was furtively picking grapes and eating them or stuffing them into the folds of his toga. His little wings fluttered as he tried to keep up with his grandpa's long strides. The sun was just rising, and the little fairy was still tired. He didn't think he'd ever get used to waking up early, or getting up at all for that matter. Sleep was _fantastico._ His brother agreed.

"I wanted to get you up early to tell you something, Feliciano," Roma said. His voice was the most musical voice he'd ever heard, and Feliciano knew he'd inherited his ability to sing. Sometimes, as he was slowly discovering, his singing could do more than just make people happy.

"What is it, _Nonno?"_

"I've hidden a treasure for you. A fantastic treasure. A treasure beyond your wildest imagination. Powerful and magical."

"You have? Where is it?"

"You have to find it. I won't tell you where it is." Roma smiled, and his eyes crinkled mischievously. His wings were a bright scarlet flecked with gold. They were torn in many places, so he couldn't fly very well anymore, but Feliciano thought they were still very pretty.

"Can you give me some clues?"

Roma nodded. He bent down to the boy's level so amber-gold eyes met a deep honey-brown.

"My treasure is something you will find if you follow your heart. Be strong in what you believe in. I've hidden it in a place that is very special to you, near a place where you do one of your favorite things. Where you do something you love."

"I love a lot of different things. It sounds hard," the little fairy said. His face twisted in concern.

"It won't be so hard if you believe in magic."

"But I _do_ believe in magic."

"Then find it," Roma said. "If you can find magic, and you can desire for yourself what your heart desires, then you'll find my treasure. You'll know when you've found it. You know where it is." He rustled his fingers through Feliciano's auburn hair and straightened the laurel branch clip. The boy was even more confused, and even now as an adult, he still didn't entirely know what his grandfather had meant.

"Find magic. Desire what my heart desires. Be strong in what I believe." Feliciano told Kiku. "It's near a place where I do one of my favorite things and in a place that is special to me."

"So you believe painting will help you find it?" Ludwig asked.

"It's a good place to start. I did like painting here a lot, and I remember painting with Grandpa so vividly. I guess I desire to paint really beautiful pictures. There's nothing magic about it, though." He set up his easel near the fountain and dabbed paint around on a wooden pallet with his brush. His skilled fingers moved with years of practice and devotion to art. "Now I just need to find someone to paint. I hope a really pretty lady comes soon. I'd really like to paint a really pretty lady. Hey, she's pretty. Look over there!"

The lady in question was kissing another man, so Ludwig dismissed this prospect.

Feliciano put his pallet down and stood. He walked around and tried to find the perfect subject. Normally, there was something that just jumped out at him. He would think to himself immediately that a pretty face in real life would be much prettier on a canvas hanging on a wall. He flitted his wings and looked from young lady to young lady, from minx to chit, from model to waitress to seamstress. His eyes darted all over the place, and yet he couldn't decide who to paint.

"Hey, are you a painter?"

Feliciano looked. It was a very handsome yet dorky young man with eyes as blue as the midsummer sky behind his glasses.

"Ehm, yes, I'm a painter. I'm looking for someone to paint. A pretty lady."

The man's eyes sparkled. "Well, I'm no pretty lady, but you can paint me if you want. What's your name? I'm Alf—Alphonse. Alphonse of Scintillatia."

"Scintillatia? You do sound foreign. I'm Feliciano of the House of Roma in Allegria. Nice to meet you, Alphonse. Hm, you know, I really haven't painted a man in a while. I could use a bit of practice. Come over to the fountain and I'll get some more colors ready. I really like your eyes. They remind me of taking a _siesta_ on a bright sunny day."

"Descriptive," Alphonse said.

"Ah, thanks. It's just my artistic talent."

"I like your wings. I wish I could fly."

Feliciano looked at the man's rounded ears. "Ah, you're human. Flying is super fun, but it does take a bit of practice before you can be good at it."

"I believe you."

"Hey! Hey, Doggie! I found who I'm going to paint." Feliciano led the man back to the fountain where Ludwig and Kiku were sitting. Kiku had turned invisible, so his only presence was marked by his voice and a faint shimmering in the air so his location could be seen.

"I thought you said you were going to paint a woman," Ludwig said.

"Yes, but I also haven't painted a man in a while, and he's okay with me painting him."

"Friends of yours?" Alphonse asked.

"Yeah, this is Doggie, and that's… well, you can't see him, but his name is Kiku."

"Great to meet you, Doggie. That's a wonderful nickname you've got there. I'm Alphonse." Alphonse grinned brightly and offered his hand. Ludwig shook it, but his face had turned pink from the compliment.

Feliciano took a chair from a nearby café and set it up near the fountain. He offered it to his subject, and the subject sat. Alphonse eyed the painter up and down before clutching his wrist and wincing.

"Are you hurt?" The fairy asked.

"No. My wrist's been bugging me lately. It's nothing."

Feliciano furrowed his brow. The man's eyes were downcast, and he kept squeezing his thumb into his wrist. "Let it have some blood. It will feel better if you don't squeeze it so much."

Alphonse's eyes snapped up. "Oh, sorry, bad habit. Now, let's get to painting."

He started with simple wide strokes to cover the canvas in a base coat. He'd decided to use blue to complement his subject's eyes. He covered the canvas in in a blanket of blue, and when it dried, he made small, light lines with a tiny brush and started painting the face and shoulders of the subject before him. Alphonse, unfortunately, was not the best at sitting still. He kept jerking around, and his eyes wandered to different people. He started pressing forcibly on his wrist every so often, and after pressing for about a minute, he would return his gaze respectfully to the painter.

At last, Feliciano got to finishing the tiny details. He painted the sun's light glinting off the subject's golden hair and the cheerful sparkle in those youthful eyes and the little chip in his left ear that held a strange air of mystery. Feliciano smiled wider and wider as he compared his painting with the real man. Ludwig watched him intently over his shoulder. He finished with the littlest strokes. Just dots of light and shadow perfecting the overall mood of the piece. His subject hadn't held his pose throughout the painting, but Feliciano still managed to make him look confident and hopeful.

He took the smallest brush and signed his name in the lower corner. "There. I finished. You can come and see it now."

"You are? Hey, that's great!" The one called Alphonse came to have a look. When he saw the finished piece, he grinned and started laughing. "I love it! I love how strong I look."

"You seem to have an air of strength around you. You can't sit still for very long. I bet you'd rather be getting into some action," the fairy said. "I should leave it to dry for a few minutes, but then you can have it as a gift."

"Really? Thanks so much! You're an amazing artist. It didn't even take you that long."

" _Grazie!"_

"You can paint _and_ sing," Ludwig noted.

Alphonse sat down on the fountain next to Feliciano. "You wouldn't mind if I joined you for a late lunch, would you? I haven't got much to do today. I'm just exploring the city. My brother and I are visiting family here in Amotoile, and I don't know the place too well."

Feliciano looked back at the young man. He was getting a little peckish. _"Sì,_ I can show you a really nice place where we can visit. I know this city very well. Doesn't that sound nice, Doggie? Then we can learn about Scintillatia. I've never been there before. Is it really nice?"

"It's very nice," Alphonse replied. "I'll tell you all about it."

* * *

Too. Easy.

Ludwig seemed to be paying special attention to Alfred's character, but Feliciano completely trusted him. The fairy needn't call "Alphonse" a liar. All Alfred had to do was get friendly enough where Feliciano could reveal some interesting information. He'd already overheard the part about the clues Feliciano had to find the amulet. An idea dawned on Alfred. What if he found the amulet first? What if the Mercs had it in their possession? Then the dark wizard definitely wouldn't get it. However, there was a flaw. Feliciano wouldn't get it either, and if the Mercs gave it back to him, chances were, he'd give it right to the dog-man.

So the task was simple yet difficult. Convince Feliciano that Ludwig was lying to him and drill it forcefully into his head that it was a very bad thing to give him the amulet. The problem was getting Feliciano alone to talk about it and then making sure he would actually listen. Perhaps if he got drunk? That was an interesting idea, but then he wouldn't be in his right mind to understand.

"This is the place I used to love," Feliciano said. He pulled Alfred's wrist as they strode toward a bistro. Alfred jerked his wrist away quickly. There was a pair of gleaming scissors hanging from the door frame. He pressed down, and immediately his wrist started pulsing with pain. He didn't want to go into this place. He couldn't. There was danger in there. Those people didn't want him. They wanted to keep him out, and he was happy to stay out.

 _Stop,_ Alfred told himself. _Stop it. It's not dangerous. You don't wanna swap with anyone in there. It's just freakin' scissors._ He pictured Arthur's glare and heard his companion's voice. _"You can't control yourself over a stupid pair of scissors!"_ Willing to prove Arthur wrong, Alfred plunged into the dangerous waters of the bistro straight after his new friend.

The scissors were just the beginning. Immediately after entering and sitting down, Alfred coughed. There was a noxious scent in the air. It was the same herbs the guards from earlier had been wearing. He looked to see a different set of guards all sitting around a table playing cards and sipping wine. They were completely oblivious to the stench. To them, the herbs probably smelled lovely. They probably welcomed a chance to wear cologne in their pockets to attract possible dates. There did seem to be a lot of people interested in that activity around this city. He must have seen at least a hundred couples holding hands.

"You look funny," Feliciano said. "Is something wrong?"

"No, sorry. It's just this thing with my wrist. It's been hurting a lot lately."

"Let me see it."

"Oh, um, it's really nothing you could cure. I have to drink a special medicine for it. It's made by fairies."

"Nonsense," Feliciano said. "Let me at least have a look. I'm a fairy, and I know some healing magic. Where does it hurt?"

Without much choice, Alfred offered his hand. Feliciano took it in his delicate hands and slipped off the glove. Alfred could see the scissors hanging at the fairy's waist and looked upward. Damn his irrational weakness. This was not a good city to pick the quarry's brains in.

Feliciano flexed Alfred's fingers and kneaded his wrist. He scrutinized the skin and veins closely. The spindly, soft fingers felt strange. Just a few nights ago, Alfred had possessed them. "I think your bad habit is making it hurt even more. You need to stop squeezing it. Then drink that medicine."

 _I know, I know,_ Alfred though annoyedly. Yao had told him the same thing. But Yao didn't know, and he couldn't tell Feliciano. No one could really understand how much it bothered him to see the scissors and iron nails everywhere. They thought it was just some joke. They couldn't understand the feeling of being almost physically pushed away from a place as if going near would cause inescapable terror. Alfred was a brave man, and the wards still gave him the heebie-jeebies. It was happening even now. The scent of the herbs was acting like a wall. It was enough to make his stomach churn. If he went near the guards, he would surely pass out from the poisonous fumes. He shivered to think how potent the smell would be if he had the heightened senses of his true form.

He started twitching in a matter of minutes. The scent wouldn't go away. It wasn't like getting used to the scent of a house. The herbs were intended to smell bad to him and remain in his psyche. So he would leave. So he wouldn't meddle. Alfred massaged his temples. Fresh air was what he needed. Fresh, heavenly, odorless oxygen.

"I think we should sit outside," he suddenly said.

"It's cold today," Ludwig said, cocking an eyebrow.

"It was cold this morning, but it's nicer now. I'm sure of it. Look, the sun's out." He pointed through the window at the shining sun peeking from behind a cloud. "Besides, it should be quieter out there, and I like watching the pigeons."

"Pigeons?" Feliciano said. He looked out the window. A large, blue-headed pigeon was strutting around just outside, pecking at bread crumbs. "Oh, lovely! We should sit outside, Doggie. I want to watch the pigeons too."

So they went to sit outside, and ate, and Alfred had to hold himself steady when the fresh air made him want to burst with joy. His head cleared, and he suddenly felt more alive than ever. Perhaps it was partly the result of the pressure point, and his energy was flowing nicely and effectively.

Alfred sat and admired the painting. He couldn't dare bring himself to be malevolent or untrustworthy to Feliciano now. The painting was fantastic at showing the strong lines of his face and the brightness of his eyes. It was a perfect likeness, and even though he would've preferred the man on the canvas to be a fairy, it was still the same handsome face he'd learned to love and live with. It was almost as if choosing Matthew to copy all those years ago was from a good taste in forms. Alfred furrowed his brow. He hadn't really _chosen_ Matthew. Matthew was just the only one there. It was like fate had chosen Matthew. And fate couldn't have chosen a more striking model for his facade.

"You really like it?" The fairy asked.

"It's great. Thanks again."

"So, how far away is this 'Scintillatia?'" Ludwig asked.

"It's across the Great Sea. My brother and I came here on a ferry. I go to a school called Vernon Hall, and my brother's a timberman's apprentice. He does a lot of work up in the Northern Wilds, so I don't see him that often. It was his idea to come and visit our relatives here. We've been bonding. So, what are you here for? You two aren't from Amotoile."

"We're looking for a treasure," Feliciano said excitedly.

"Really?" Alfred feigned the same amount of excited interest.

" _Sì!_ It's a magic amulet."

"A magic amulet that belonged to Feliciano's grandfather and he has inherited," Ludwig explained. His gaze was serious as he said it, as if warding off any possible interest in snatching another man's treasure.

"And that I'm giving to Doggie out of the goodness of my heart because I agreed," Feliciano said.

"I also remember Feliciano agreeing that he will give Doggie-san the amulet," came a disembodied voice. Alfred glanced around, and when he saw the faint distortion in the air near him, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Holy shit! Ghost!" Alfred scooted away from the table shaking. His exclamation brought an uncomfortable bout of attention, and the bustle of outdoor Amotoile hushed itself for a few seconds before continuing.

"Twice in a day," Ludwig murmured.

"I apologize," the shimmer said. "Please accept my apology. I did not know that you had a fear of spirits. However, you are never indebted to a dishonorable spirit, and so if you are not willing to accept at this time, that is also acceptable."

Alfred smiled nervously. "No need to get all fancy, dude. I accept. I was just a little startled by you. I forgot you were there. So anyway, where were we?" He brought his seat back to the table and looked to the fairy.

"We are here looking for a magic amulet that can grant wishes. It did belong to my Grandpa Roma, but I have decided and agreed to give the amulet to Doggie out of the goodness of my heart."

There was something peculiar about the way he said it. Alfred could tell. He peered into Feliciano's eyes. They seemed… dark and distant. Not his own. His voice was almost uncertain that he actually believed what he said. And he'd worded it the same way he had earlier. The fact that the spirit said something similar was uncanny.

Even so, Alfred still had to make himself play along. "Goodness of your heart? Hey, you're a really nice guy. I'd love it if someone wanted to give that kind of treasure to me. You must be really trusting friends."

Ludwig seemed taken aback. His icy eyes widened. "Yes. It's a transaction of trust. We are good friends, and it was a good agreement."

"Now we just have to figure out how to find it," Feliciano said.

"What does it look like?"

Feliciano stopped moving. "I never thought about that. What does it look like? What would Grandpa's amulet look like?"

"I've seen some magic amulets before. My brother has them in his collection," Ludwig said. "They're usually small and have some sort of edge around them made of a precious metal."

"Gold!" The fairy exclaimed. "Grandpa loved gold. Fairy gold."

"The wand does have a golden engraving it it. Perhaps the stone within the gold edging is a deep red to match the wand."

" _Veh,_ that makes sense. We Allegrians wouldn't need the wand, but I still think if we did want to use it, it would have to match. Aesthetic is important."

"Where are you going to find fairy gold in Amotoile?" Alfred asked. "This place isn't that into fairies of any kind." _I should know._

"The clues. The clues. Follow my heart. Desire what my heart desires. Have strength in what I believe. Find magic." Feliciano recited them again. He screwed up his face in contemplation. "I'm in a place that's special to me, and I'm doing what I love to do. What do the other parts have to do with it? They're so abstract."

"Well, I guess you loved painting this. And you desired that I be your subject to paint. And, um, you believed that it's a good painting and that you're a good painter…?"

"I desired to make a good painting, and I do believe that I am a good painter, but here's nothing magical about the painting. I mean, metaphorically, maybe, yes, but that wasn't Grandpa's style. He meant finding real magic."

"Your singing talent," Ludwig said. "That's real magic. Perhaps this thing you love to do isn't painting, but singing."

Feliciano thought about this for a moment. Then, he jumped up, and his wings shot up and started whizzing. "There's a magic song I know that Grandpa taught me. It makes lost things _found!_ Maybe if I sing and I pour my heart into it and I desire the amulet, I'll be able to make the amulet appear! We have to go back to the fountain. That's the special place!"

"We must go there soon, then!"

"At sunset! We have to do it at sunset! That's my favorite time of day to sing! And that's when Grandpa would sing to me!"

"At… sunset?" Alfred murmured. What he said louder was, "I'd love to come and watch you sing."

"You should come. I'll make it a public performance at the fountain.

"I'll make sure to come," Alfred said. "You bet your bucket I'll be there."


	26. Darkness With Light

"Hey, Artie! I need to talk to you about something!"

The door to Arthur's room flung open violently, and the vial he was holding slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor. Luckily, it was empty, but that still meant he had one less receptacle for holding mixtures. Sealed jars of strangely-glowing liquids sat idly on the desk, and six long hairs, three from Matthew and three he'd plucked off of Francis' pillows, were laying nicely on either side. He turned slowly to see the bearer of his misfortune, the ridiculous changeling. Arthur furrowed his monstrous brows and took another vial from the secret pocket in his traveling bag.

"What is it? I'm terribly busy right now." He turned back to his work. An unopened book was resting on his lap. He reached into the secret pocket again and pulled out a tiny gold key on a chain.

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing that concerns you. Now out with it. What is so important that you need to interrupt me? I judge you can infer that when a man's chamber door is closed, he doesn't want to be bothered."

Alfred strode over to the desk. "Hey, it's nice and warm in here. So I know you probably won't want to talk about it at first, but it's about your little interest in dark magic."

"Leave me," Arthur said offhandedly. He waved his hand behind him to shoo away the unwanted guest.

"Hear me out, okay? It's important. It's about our mission, anyway. It's Messy Hand stuff."

"Leave me," he said slightly louder.

"Dude, are you even listening?"

Arthur huffed. "Why ever would you need to request counsel on such a thing? You're a natural with that kind of magic, aren't you?" He didn't look at Alfred. Rather, the hand he had used to shoo him was gesticulating wildly while he clutched a jar full of pomegranate juice with the other.

"Not at everything. And this isn't about casting spells. It's about diagnosing them. I think Feliciano's under one."

Arthur didn't reply, so he continued, "In the city, I ended up having lunch with him and the dog-man. I spun a few lies here and there, made it sound like I'm just a nice human schoolboy. Then, all of a sudden, he just started talking really weird. It wasn't super weird, but the way he looked as he said it and the way he sounded… it wasn't right. It could've been a trick of the light, but I thought his eyes looked darker for a second."

"Why would you qualify his speech as 'weird?'"

"You wanna talk now?"

"If it will get you to go away. This project requires a lot of focus and precision."

"Well, from what I can deduce, you're makin' a potion, and that's a branch o' dark magic. Is it the same one you used to make your ears round?"

Arthur slammed the juice on the desk. "Blast! How did you know?"

"I didn't until just now." Alfred smiled cheekily. "I know how to get people to talk. Aren't you not s'posed to be doing this anymore since you were arrested n' all?"

"I was not allowed to do it even before my sentence, so it hardly matters."

"Artie, tell me what you did. Please?"

"You tell me about Feliciano. That's what you came in here for."

"Dodge me all you want, but I'll find out what you did someday. Anyway, we were talking, and I asked them what they were doing in Amotoile, and they told me they were looking for a treasure. So I casually asked what kind of a treasure it was, and they told me a magic amulet. Boring stuff. We already know that.

"Okay, listen to this, _twice_ the subject came up of how the amulet is supposedly Feliciano's inheritance because it belonged to his grandfather. But both times he just dismissed this and said he was, hm, ' _I'm giving the amulet to Doggie out of the goodness of my heart because I agreed.'_ That's what he sounded like. Doesn't that sound off to you? He usually sounds pretty straightforward, and that's a mouthful. Awkward syntax. It sounded almost like he was trying to ward off any further questions. And he sounded a little uncertain in what he said. Both times he used that phrase, 'out of the goodness of my heart.' I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure it's either extreme coercion or magic, and seeing as the two of them seem to be such good friends, I'm going for magic."

"What did his eyes look like?"

"Kinda dark. The stardust dimmed a little bit. Do you think he's possessed?"

"Hardly," Arthur said. "If he were possessed, the one in possession would be able to have freedom and make him sound more natural. If this is magic at all, it's mind-meddling, and unfortunately, I don't know too much about that branch."

"Mind-meddling, huh? Someone's altered his memories?"

"Possibly. My guess is that someone planted those words in his subconscious and he's being forced to say them and believe them even though he doesn't know why he believes them. That would explain his uncertainty. How or why this happened, I don't know."

Alfred scoffed. "I know _why._ It's so he'll give Doggie that amulet instead of keeping it as his inheritance. He dismissed his gramps all together both times he talked about it. Someone's making him believe he's okay with this. It's not cool."

"Wait a minute," Arthur said. He put the book on his desk and stood up to face his guest. "I remember something. Do that impression again, Alfred. Make it as accurate as you can remember."

Alfred stood pensive for a few seconds before snapping his fingers and squinting his eyes. He hung his body frivolously in the air. Then, he sort of slumped forward, and the frivolity abated. " _I'm giving the amulet to Doggie out of the goodness of my heart because I agreed,"_ he said in Feliciano's voice. Arthur nodded slowly. There was something off about it, and it matched his suspicion.

"You weren't there," he said, "but back when Francis and I were talking to him and trying to convince him to come to our side, he spoke to us in the same manner. His voice was somewhat mechanical, repetitive, words perfected and hardly dragging. He said we were liars and that he wouldn't listen to us. And he said the exact same thing. 'Goodness of my heart. I'm giving Doggie the amulet because I agreed.' You'd think he'd change it up, but that's what he said. And you said he told you the same thing twice in a row."

"He's got a spell on him," Alfred said. "I bet that's why you couldn't convince him."

"We couldn't! We showed him the letter and explained our intentions, but he called us liars. It's like his mind was an impenetrable wall to contradictory information."

"So that means we can't convince him unless the spell is broken," Alfred said. "We can't drill it into his head. He won't listen."

"We'd need to know what kind of spell it is. I wish I knew more. Perhaps this can tell us." He gestured to the book on the desk.

Alfred cocked an eyebrow. "That's a bookkeeping journal."

"No it's not," Arthur said, his voice dripping with haughty mischief.

"It says so right on the cover." Alfred picked up the book and started flipping through. Faded scribbling jumped out at him. All historical records of accounts opened and closed. Merchandise sold and returned. Inventory updates. Accounts receivable and payable. Assets less liabilities and net worth. "What is this?"

"Give it here." Arthur took the book back. "You're good at keeping secrets, aren't you? Swear it."

Alfred's right hand snapped up. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to—"

"Don't give me that. Be serious."

"'Kay, fine. I won't tell anyone about your secrets, but you gotta tell 'em to me first."

Arthur sighed. "There was a time almost a year ago now when I knew I was done for. Knowledge of my doings had been… 'leaked,' per se, and no matter how much I did or said to cover it up, I knew I would be apprehended. The evidence was too blatant to point to anyone else. Everything would be taken from me. So I created a safeguard."

He took the key he'd been fiddling with and inserted it into a little gold lock affixed to the cover of the journal. He turned, and his eyes sparkled. The book changed. It grew into a tome, and the old, fraying cover metamorphosed into a hard, black leather binding. The title vanished to be replaced simply by _F._ _A.K._ in venomous green letters. The yellowed pages repaired themselves. The book was new and fresh. Arthur picked it up with effort; it was impossibly heavy. He gave it to Alfred, who opened it to a random page.

"Potions," Alfred remarked.

"I compiled my entire dark library into this book and disguised it as a simple old forgotten journal. The Council wankers glanced right over it. I still have every bit of information I need. Granted, it's rather hard to find what I'm looking for when I use it, but my original books have long since been destroyed. Even so, I'm under so much scrutiny that I haven't read it much or used any of its knowledge since then. It goes against my sentence, you know, but of course, I'm in Amotoile, and I don't give a damn."

"Sneaky dark magician."

Arthur groaned. "I have my… _interests._ That doesn't mean I'm like you. That doesn't mean I'd regularly associate with people like you. That doesn't mean I aspire to be anything like you at all."

"Yeesh, you've told me that like a million times. You're a noble lord and I'm the 'dark beast' who haunts you in your dreams. Now quit griping. How do we use this thing?"

Arthur took the book back, and his back popped under its weight. He slammed it on the bed and opened to the first page. "It's somewhat organized. Here, the table of contents." He brought his finger down spidery lines of ink. Instead of chapters and page numbers, they were the titles of books and scrolls he'd taken and put into the compilation. Everything from _Advanced, Arduous Alchemy_ to _Classic Tales of the Dark Fae_ was listed. Arthur had to look closer. The name of a potion cookbook, (which he remembered to be particularly thin yet highly helpful in the information it gave,) was marked in green ink, as it was the title he had been looking at most recently and the one the magic book currently embodied. He'd scrawled fresh notes in its pages just the previous night. The table of contents stretched for several pages. He looked for anything related to mind-meddling. He hoped this wouldn't take too long. He would need to be focused to finish the potion for Matthew, yet this did relate to his mission.

"What's that one?" Alfred asked right in Arthur's ear. Arthur recoiled and clamped a hand over the offended organ. The changeling was pointing to a title he'd recently glanced over, _Classic Tales of the Dark Fae._

Arthur simply scoffed at Alfred's interest. "It's a storybook for children. Funny how I saw the original copy among the things taken from my manor. It's hardly dangerous, but I suppose a poem from it is partly how I was able to deduce your true nature."

"Really? What else does it say? I want to read it."

"We don't have time for that," Arthur snapped, but the book had reacted to Alfred's touch and voice, and the new title lit up in green ink. Alfred nudged the book's owner over and flipped through illustrated pictures of pale, ugly fairies and frozen, screaming children. He giggled.

"Is this really the kind of thing you tell the little chilluns about? They're gonna get stolen and eaten if they don't respect their parents and say please and thank you? I mean, it's got some truth to it since we're naturally rowdy and would probably blend in better, but this is ridiculous. What a weird form of teaching manners! Threatening kids!" He shrieked with laughter at one illustration: a baby in a cradle with the face and beard of a grown man, its tiny mouth full of sharp, crooked teeth. "Oh, dude, you have to let me borrow this thing! It's too funny!" He flipped another page. His laughter dimmed, as the illustration was a lot more serious than comical. It was a picture of a full moon reflecting on water, and in the foreground was a hollowed tree. The wording was pithy; it was a poem.

" _ **Darkness with light, together as one  
the blood of a faerie, a new thread is spun.  
A full moon is risen, its shadow is cast  
through forest and dale to a tree of the past  
Though deadened and bare, its trunk hollow still  
It can create life, through moonlight and spill  
When three come together, moon, shadow, and blood,  
A dark faerie rises to burgeon and bud." **_

Alfred cocked his head to the side. He appeared to be contemplating the meaning of the poem and its significance. He touched the painted moon and traced its light to the dead, hollowed tree. In the tree's shadow was a dark, moist patch of earth. Did Alfred understand, or should he clarify? Arthur understood it well. It was an old superstition.

"Full moonlight, a dead tree's shadow and fairy blood?" Alfred said quizzically.

"Erm, they're supposedly the ingredients needed to trigger the birth of a changeling," Arthur explained. "It's just a story. I know nothing of its credibility. I've never witnessed such an event."

"I've heard it before. Mathias told me. In his country, Hejgrund, they call us 'Shadowborns.' I don't quite get it, though. I don't feel like I was born out of moonlight and some fairy's blood." He smiled incredulously. "They call you guys 'elves.' Not fairies. _Elves._ 'Cause fairies have wings."

Arthur ignored this strange notion and turned once again to the table of contents. After another few minutes, he found a book explaining some basics of mind-meddling. He skimmed paragraphs, looking for anything that matched Feliciano's ailment. "Our problem is that we don't know what spell was used or who cast it."

"Who _did_ cast it?" Alfred wondered. "Luddy doesn't seem like the wizarding type, and Feliciano couldn't cast it on himself since he's winged." His face suddenly darkened. "The _enemy,"_ he said. "The dark wizard. Ludwig's brother. He did it. He wants to play dirty. Stay out of the scene. He's crooked, whoever he is."

"A good inference," Arthur said. "Logically, the dark wizard would stay in touch with Ludwig. It could very well be he who did this."

"He's clever, I suppose, but you know what they say. No one's more clever than a changeling." He smiled proudly and crossed his arms. "Anyway, I should probably tell you since you weren't downstairs earlier. I'm going to the fountain at the center of town at sunset. Feliciano's going to be using this kind of summoning magic he thinks'll make the amulet appear. Francis kept warning me about this incense they burn, but I'll be fine. D'ya wanna come with me?"

Arthur closed the magic book and sat up on the bed. "What are you planning?"

"I dunno. It depends on if his summoning spell actually works. I thought that if he actually makes the amulet appear, I could snatch it. Then we'd just have it and we'd give it back to Feliciano once we find out how to break the spell so he wants it again."

"And if he doesn't summon the amulet as planned?"

"Then we'd be at a loss, I guess, but we should be there. He sounded really confident that this summoning spell would work. I should be there, anyway. I said I would. I got on their good side. You could be my backup. Who knows? Maybe we could even kidnap somebody. Feliciano again, or maybe Ludwig. We'll have to kidnap Feliciano eventually if we want to try and break the spell."

"We're not kidnapping Ludwig! He's the dog-man!"

"Yeah, but he'd give us answers."

"We're not doing that."

"I'm just throwing it out there. You don't have to take everything so seriously, you know."

Arthur closed his eyes. "If you're going, I might as well go too. This only reminds me of the last time you went somewhere by yourself. You at least need a supervisor. And what did Francis say about this incense? Is it magical?"

"Some kinna anti-dark-creature incense. I can't remember the name of it. They don't even start burning it until it gets dark, so we should have plenty of time. If we don't, we can always find some place private and I'll turn into an eagle and fly out quickly. No harm done."

"You will turn into a _sparrow,_ and I will put you in my pocket and take you out of the city myself."

"If we can find one, sure," Alfred said, obviously uninterested in the idea. He looked out the window. "We should leave soon. It'll take us a little bit to get into the city 'cause we have to find a place where you can part the salt ring inconspicuously. Then we'll have to navigate to the fountain, which could take some time."

"I'm still working on this project. First you interrupt me, and now you expect me to go with you."

"Well, then I'm leaving without a supervisor. I have to sneak out, anyway. Francy's being all stingy with the information I gave him. He thinks I'll get sick or something if I go, but I was like, 'Dude, it's just smelly stuff. As long as I get out before nightfall and don't snort it, I should be fine.' 'Course, he's trying to be all protective. I don't blame 'im, but I still have to go. I didn't sign up for idleness. I came here to be a hero, and I'm not letting the dog-man and the dark wizard get away with this."

Arthur looked into Alfred's passionate blue eyes and then to the desk. He couldn't tarry too long. The pale-amber and platinum hairs lay hopeful as the centerpiece of his current work. He would need to make both the potion to change Matthew and the antidote to change him back. The antidote wasn't as important in the moment, but even making the potion would require alertness. Still, Alfred could no longer be trusted on his own. Francis was surely going to the fountain thinking Alfred was not, and Arthur's guess was that Alfred would try to evade the knight's wandering eyes and do whatever foolish thing came into his self-possessed mind.

"Fine," Arthur sulked. "I'll go, but we need to see your brother first. I need to be unseen."

"You need to be Unseen? Why do you need to be a Homoalces? Is _that_ the kind of potion you're making? You're not going to drink Mattie's blood, are you?"

"No, you dolt, I need to be unseen, _lowercase._ Your brother has a store of Invisibility Dust. Obviously, I can't show myself when I've already been bashed by Feliciano's accusations. I'll need to be invisible. You, of course, can show yourself."

"Oh, well how am I supposed to see you, then?"

"You won't, but you'll still hear me. Perhaps we can tie a string around your finger and tie the other end to mine. The dust makes anything the user touches invisible as well." _It will also make sure that I know where you are at all times._

Alfred seemed skeptical of this, but he did think it was a good idea for Arthur to be invisible. Perhaps then, he remarked, Arthur could create a diversion so Alfred could take the amulet, and then they could make a break for it.

"Let's just see if he can actually summon the amulet first," Arthur said.

* * *

"You want some of my dust?" Matthew said. He cocked his head quizzically at the two small people before him.

"Just a smidge. We'll only need it for an hour at most. I can't be showing myself to the quarry after that cock up of a kidnapping," Arthur replied. _And anyway, this way I won't have to round out my ears or dress like a human._

"Okay, as long as you're careful with it. It's very strong." Matthew rummaged through his shoulderbag, and after spying the desired item, he brought it up out of the bag with his overlarge teeth. It was a pouch made of purple velvet drawn closed. He took it in his hand and reached down to give it to Arthur. "If you only need it for an hour, I'd probably just take a sliver. Dissolve some in water and drink it quickly."

"Can I try this sometime?" Alfred asked.

"If you need it," Matthew said softly. "So what exactly do you need it for, Arthur?"

Before Arthur could even reply, Alfred blasted into his account of the day and described what he'd learned through his excellent subterfuge. He then explained his suspicion about Feliciano being under a spell and how Arthur thought someone could be meddling with his mind and putting words in his mouth. From there, he boldly told Matthew about an escapade into the heart of the city, perhaps into danger, to retrieve the amulet before the others could.

"I need to come along to make sure Alfred doesn't do anything rash," Arthur said in a rare synapse of Alfred's confident monologue.

"Nah, I'm not rash. I just do what needs to be done."

"Says the idiot who picked a fight with the dog-man."

"Excuse me milord, but if you were in a weak body that hardly weighs anything and a monster with teeth as thick as your pinky pinned you to the ground, wouldn't you do the same thing?"

"Of course not. I'd stun him and make my escape with the wand in my hand. Nothing lost, something gained."

"I'm just glad you were still alive," Matthew whispered, "but I have to agree it was a very foolhardy thing to do."

"It sure was fun, though. You guys'll never understand."

"I don't want to understand," Arthur said.

"I won't have to," Matthew said with a hint of humor. "The dog-man couldn't pin me to the ground. I could knock him down with one kick." He lifted a front leg and nudged Alfred playfully in the knee with his hoof.

"We'll see where this adventure leads us. Maybe one o' you will be in a similar position." Alfred turned and looked off in the distance away from the chateau. "You ready, Arthur?"

"I suppose so. Let's get this over with. Like I said, I have to finish that project upstairs." He gave a furtive glance to Matthew and winked. The Homoalces grinned humbly and shifted on his hooves. Arthur mouthed ' _wait for me'_ to his subject before Alfred yanked him away and the two started on toward the salt ring.

* * *

"Knock… ring… knock… knock… letters through your… _black-and-white cat!"*_

"Shut up already!"

"You don't like my singing?"

Arthur didn't reply. They had reached the salt ring, its beautiful and intimidating majesty like a grainy white streak of paint left on the earth by a giant. The outer edge was decorated by bits of scrap iron and little savory-smelling leaves. He knelt down and stroked the surface. It sifted through his fingers. Just regular table salt. Not deadly or poisonous. Ordinary.

"Hey, check this out," Alfred said. Arthur looked up. Alfred was leaning on… nothing. His body was at an angle, and his weight rested on the air like a cushion. Arthur noticed that just below the cushion of air was the edge of the salt ring, mundane yet brooding.

"It's like a wall," he continued. He came out of his lean and put two hands up in front of him, then pushed. They cut through the air until they came to where the barrier started. His hands stopped. Alfred pushed and dug his feet into the ground, but his hands would go no further. The salt brought about an invisible, intangible resistance, intolerant to the darkness in his blood. There was not even a distortion in the air to mark its presence.

Not deterred and willing to test its limits, Alfred reeled back one fist and moving like a blur, threw a powerful punch at the barrier. There was no sound as his knuckles struck nothingness. No shimmer signifying the barrier had been pained. Alfred recoiled. His hand shook and his knuckles were red as if he had just punched a brick wall. He shoved them in his mouth, then kicked at the barrier. Nothing he did would go past. He even removed his glasses and pressed his face against it. His cheeks squished up on invisible glass.

Arthur couldn't help himself. He let out a small chortle at this absurd display. "I'm surprised simple salt works so well!" He laughed. "On the Isle of Rain, we've resorted to using more complex, magical wards around our houses and villages. But the ancient, simple salt ward hasn't lost its touch I see." Alfred was rearing up to headbutt the ring's rim when Arthur had to stop the jest. "Don't hurt yourself. I can assume that you already tried worse tactics this morning."

Then, curious, Arthur held a hand in front of him like Alfred had done and pushed it toward the barrier. Unsurprisingly, it slid straight through the air over the salt. He felt no resistance to his presence at all. He smiled and closed his eyes smugly. Alfred threw himself against the barrier to watch wide-eyed.

And then he felt it. Arthur's eyes snapped open again. The air around his hand suddenly felt thick and viscous. He pushed further, but it was getting harder. He shoved his other hand over the salt. At first, it was the same, and then there was the same sensation of the air simply congealing and pressing in on his hand from all sides.

"What's this?" He questioned. The air didn't get any thicker, but it was hard to flex his hands with the resistance all around them. Arthur pulled his hands out with some difficulty. There was nothing on them except small vestiges of pressure tingling in different places. He again took one hand and moved it toward the barrier. When the salt started, he pushed forcefully. Again, nothingness, and then the thickness and pressure. His hand was squeezed and prodded forward and backward.

"It's almost solid," he remarked. "Why am I feeling a resistance? I shouldn't be feeling anything."

Alfred looked pensive. "It might be confused," he said. "Maybe it senses that you're both light and dark, so it doesn't know what do. Let you in or keep you out."

Arthur scoffed. "I am most definitely a _light_ fairy."

The changeling smirked. "Then what was the potion for? And your secret book? And why did you get arrested and put under so much scrutiny? What did you do that was so _dark?"_

"I retain my right to have secrets. Anyway, at least it can sense some light magic in me. What did Francis do for you this morning? Just swish some out of the way so you could slide through?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me your secret. Come on. No one's around. Just you and me. Tell me what you did. I won't tell anyone. We're best friends, right?"

"Since when?"

"I saved your life."

"You also ate my breakfast."

"Touché, and it was delicious."

Arthur put his foot out over the salt ring and started pushing the granules to each side. The congealing pressure wavered and pressed in. It soon became hard to move further without being slowly pushed to the edge of the ring. However, each time he cleared some salt away, the pressure would release and he could move further. It took a good twenty minutes before he had created a pathway through the salt that would be satisfactory to accommodate his companion. Arthur slipped out of the path on the other side and beckoned for Alfred. He squeezed through the tight space and popped out past the ring just before he tripped on his pant leg and knocked into Arthur. Both of them tumbled down in a heap.

"Next time, we're coming with a human," Alfred groaned. And Arthur agreed.


	27. A Song at Sunset

He was wandering the halls of the hotel when he discovered it had a ballroom.

The large doors were nearly twice his height and made of glass with elegant golden swans for handles. Curious, Feliciano grabbed one and pulled the door slowly open. The room behind it was lit with sunlight streaming in from the west wall, which was covered in high glass windows. It was eerily empty. The room was vast. A paltry row of tables with candelabra was pushed to one side, but other than that, the polished blue floor was completely empty. Quietly, he stepped into the room. The door creaked behind him as it closed. He made sure his wings hadn't jammed in it, and then walked forward until he was directly under a massive chandelier dripping with precious stones. There was something wistful about this place. He hadn't been in this ballroom before, but he'd been in another one once.

Again, lost in the past, Feliciano was a bit bigger than in the memory in the vineyard and clutched a wooden push-broom in his hands. His back and shoulders ached from bending to sweep in all the little corners of the house and then the ballroom. His stomach rumbled. When would he get to taste that cake Edelstein had started hours earlier?

"Almost done I see," came Edelstein's honking whine of a voice. The young nobleman approached Feliciano and gave him a complimentary pat on the head. "Not done yet, though."

"I am done," Feliciano said meekly. "I finished all the sweeping, and I picked up all the underwear."

Edelstein didn't look satisfied. He looked upward toward the ballroom's three chandeliers. "What do you mean you finished all the sweeping?"

"I swept every room in the house. Did I miss somewhere? Wait, aah! Ow! Please don't pull!"

Edelstein had grabbed hold of Feliciano's two larger wings and yanked them up. "Are these useless?" He asked with an edge in his voice. He jerked the wings and bent them in and out, seeing all the ways they could move.

"N-no, they're not useless. They work! They're my wings and they're very fragile so please stop pulling!"

"Sweep the dust off the chandeliers and the cobwebs out of the corners of the ceiling. I won't make you do the whole house tonight. Come get some cake when you're done."

Looking back, Feliciano realized that the chore of sweeping up high hadn't been all bad. It certainly made cleaning more fun. He'd even taught himself to do aerial somersaults in Edelstein's ballroom, though he first had to remove the degrading maid's dress he was made to wear and toss the broom aside when no one was looking. Eventually, he learned that it was better to sweep the high-up places first because his wings would trail fairy dust on the floor, and that was an entirely new mess to sweep up.

In the hotel ballroom, Feliciano bent down and removed his shoes and socks. It was better to feel the air gliding over his feet. There was no mud to track through in the air, and if he ran into something, it was much easier to grip and kick off again. He squeezed his toes and felt the cool surface of the dance floor. His wings rose expectantly. Feliciano fluttered them and looked upward. He bent down and then kicked off, his leg muscles shooting like steel springs. His wings caught the silent air and moved with a low, humming whirr. In seconds he came face to face with the chandelier.

He hovered there and swung his legs slowly as if he were in a pool. He reached out and grabbed a crystal. Oily dust rubbed off on his fingers. Feliciano flashed a half-smile and sighed. The whole thing would have to be dusted, but that was too much work, and he really had no business being in here in the first place. He had really been just trying to kill time before he went and sang at the fountain.

One somersault, and then he would leave, he decided. He ducked out of the way of the great, hanging light and flew over to the end of the hall. His feet made contact with the wall just above the far doors, and he floated horizontally, waiting for the perfect moment.

Feliciano kicked off and whizzed his wings faster. Air rushed past his ears and blew back his hair. It smelled a bit musty. Then, he quickly crouched and grabbed his knees. His wings folded down, and he forced himself into a forward flip. When he had circled completely, he brought up his wings again and smacked right into the wall. Pain and confusion shot through his body. He started falling, dazed. Before he could hit the ground, he turned and righted himself, but it was too late to flutter for a soft landing. Feliciano fell forward onto his knees. His palms hit the floor hard. He groaned and looked up. Was it that this ballroom was smaller, or had he just flipped too late? Maybe it was simply because his wings were so much bigger and faster now. He rubbed his tingling face to make sure nothing was bloody and then retrieved his footwear from the center of the ballroom.

The incident reminded him of a younger Lovino, who was never allowed to fly indoors whether at Roma Villa or at his job with Antonio. Although, in Lovino's case, the restriction was more necessary. He was never a strong flier in his youth and ran headfirst into trees and walls so often that its comic glory dramatically faded the more times he made the mistake. Feliciano smiled as he remembered trying to cheer his brother up after such occasions.

He exited the ballroom and meandered circuitously through the other halls and rooms. He found Kiku at one time leading bewildered and slightly-terrified guests to their room to be helpful. Feliciano eventually found Ludwig sitting on a bench in the foyer reading a book. The fairy plopped himself down next to his friend and instantly struck up a conversation.

"Aren't you excited, Doggie? We might find the amulet! I'm very excited. We've been searching and hoping and we've been through scary things and fun things. It will be a little sad, though, because then our quest will be over, but our friendship won't be. Doggie, I'm sorry, but I still don't understand. I want you to have the amulet. I don't want it. I'm giving it to you. I agreed out of the goodness of my heart."

Ludwig stiffened. His grip on the book tightened. "I want _you_ to have it back once I've used it," he replied. "I want Gilbert to have a look, too. He'll be delighted to see this mythical _sogno_ for himself."

"Gilbert can keep it! He's awesome, and the amulet is awesome too."

"No, Feliciano. It's yours, not mine nor Gilbert's." His tone was warning.

"It's yours," Feliciano said, but his friend shook his head with an icy gaze. Why couldn't he understand? Doggie was his best friend, and Feliciano was giving him an amazing gift. Why didn't he want to keep it? Why didn't he look happy? The smallest drop of black, viscid frustration pooled in his chest. They had agreed on this, hadn't they? They had agreed together. Doggie wanted it. He needed it and deserved it, and Feliciano wanted to give it to him. Why then, was he not honoring the agreement? Why was he shying away from it and speaking as if they had never agreed at all? It was the truth! They _had_ agreed!

Hadn't they?

Feliciano couldn't even tell. In sunless confusion, he changed the subject.

"You're disappointed that our quest is coming to a close, aren't you?"

Ludwig turned and looked at the fairy. " _Ja,_ I guess you could say that, but we don't know for sure if we will find it here. It's just the most plausible location from what you say."

"I hope my song works. I've seen it work before. There's a blank space in the song, and I replace the blank space with whatever has been lost. It works on hidden things, too. I used it once when Herr Edelstein hid cake from me. I tried using it another time to summon pasta, but there wasn't any pasta hidden in the house, so it didn't work. _Veh,_ I could definitely use some homemade pasta now. Maybe if Alphonse comes to listen to my song, I can make some for him. He'll get to experience the cuisine of Amotoile and Allegria in the same day. What a lucky guy, eh?"

"Don't get too friendly with strangers."

Feliciano furrowed his brow. "What's wrong with making a new friend?"

"The fact that one person after us can change his appearance."

Couldn't there be a sense of hope and security? "Doggie, no. The salt ring. The wards everywhere. I'm not scared in this city. They'd never let anything bad happen."

"I'd just watch the character of anyone you encounter who wants to be friendly. Did you notice how that man you painted seemed to be anxious every so often?"

"He wasn't a… one of those. I'm sure of it. He didn't even try to tell me that you're lying to me. He thought it was a great idea that I plan to give you the amulet. It was refreshing."

"It might have been a lie," Ludwig grunted. Feliciano refused to believe it.

From thence, Ludwig returned to his book, and Feliciano's need for conversation turned into a game of how many times he could slap Ludwig's hand between both of his before he looked at the fairy out of the corner of his eye, and then how many times he had to do it before Ludwig spoke. It was great fun. Kiku returned to them sometime later in good spirits and announced that he had accomplished a number of good deeds by volunteering to show guests around. Feliciano remembered seeing the guests from earlier chattering nervously in different languages while the transparent man moved steadily through the halls.

And then the sun had descended to the point where Ludwig set his book down and nudged the fairy. "Get your lute," he said. "Let's find the amulet."

* * *

Perhaps Arthur was exaggerating his inner reactions to entering Fleur de Vie, but he certainly felt distaste toward the decorations and architecture and a sense of embarrassment when he watched Alfred hold the scissors up to the guards. (He started to tremble not seconds later and his pupils contracted to mere pinpoints.) The simple fact that he had facilitated Alfred's entrance into this protected sanctum weighed like an uncertain guilt. It was like a sweater that when donned was too hot and when removed left one subject to a chilling wind. This was not the Isle of Rain, but its citizens were innocent people who deserved to be protected. Alfred had not shown himself to be dangerous, yet he was rash and prideful and every man in the city's idea of a monster.

Which brought him to another string of thought he hadn't snipped at yet. "Could I ask you something?" He voiced. Alfred appeared to be deep in thought. Either that, or he was scared witless and trying to puncture his wrist with his thumbnail as a distraction.

"Hm? Artie? Where are you?"

"Here," Arthur said. He patted Alfred's right shoulder with an unseeable hand. He had taken Matthew's dust not long before they were at the front gates. It was an interesting experience. First, his body and clothes had simply taken on a strange, shimmery pallor, and then the sun's light treated him like a transparent glass until he was no longer even able to see himself. He was still aware of himself, his substance and his breathing, but if he looked down, he saw nothing. Neither could Alfred or anyone else. Furthermore, Alfred had ultimately rejected Arthur's string idea in favor of being able to move quickly if necessary.

"I don't want to look crazy talkin' to no one," Alfred said. "Whaddaya need to say?"

Arthur's tone was firm. "What happened in Lafée? What really happened when you were there? What made them think, no, _know,_ what you really are?"

"Not so loud, buddy. You-know-what's pretty taboo around here."

"Tell me what happened. Did they just see your ears, or was it something else?"

"Can I trade that information for details of your crime?"

"Oh, sod off."

"Welp, I'm not tellin' you then."

"I hope you realize that I'm not just going to tell a near-stranger and a proven _you-know-what_ my deepest secret."

"Nope. That's not your deepest secret. Your family knows, the court system knows, probably half your noble Society or whatever knows. Come on, it's almost common knowledge. Not like _my_ deepest secret."

"It's my personal life and business. I'm not telling you."

"Okay, so you won't tell me. Who _would_ you tell? I'll just pretend to be him for a little while."

"That would still be _you."_

"Got it. You'd tell yourself, wouldn't you? Gimme some of your clothes and you can have a _nice, long chat with a poor, old, sacked bloke."_ His voice shifted its timbre halfway through. Luckily, everyone was too distracted to notice it or see that it was directed to no one. Alfred beamed and started giggling at his impression. Arthur, however, was not amused.

"If you change into me again I'll bring you to the authorities and announce to the whole world you were trying to swap with me."

Alfred made a face like he was punched in the gut. "Oh, I'm so scared!"

"I _will,"_ Arthur stressed.

"Now that's just cruel. I thought I saved your life."

"I'll tell them you saved my life in order to gain my trust and preserve my animate form for whenever you need a quick change of pace."

They walked past a line of guards outside a high-end café with their backs straight and their eyes up. Alfred gave them an easily forced smile and a wave. They didn't do anything in reply. It was at least ten minutes later when Alfred replied, "that makes me sound like a psycho," and Arthur riposted, "and yet for some strange reason it's realistic."

"We really should save these conversations for another time," Alfred said. "Too bad it's fun to mess with you."

"Why do you keep doing that to your wrist? You realize you're getting a bruise, right?"

"Yao says it's supposed to help with the, uh, well, er—"

"What? Anxiety?"

"You could say that," he said weakly. "It works. I can at least approach buildings now. I even went in one earlier." Despite its ridiculousness, he said it with an air of pride.

"It's inefficient if you only went in _one._ Give it and I'll heal it for you. It looks terrible."

"Not in the middle of the street. Maybe when we get to the fountain. I did tell Feli I've been prescribed fairy medicine for some unknown problem in my wrist. I'll pretend like I've taken it."

"And you say you're not a liar."

"It's what I do," he smiled. "Call me Alphonse."

* * *

It was simply that. _Uncertainty._ A game of statement and observation where it was up to the observer to decide what was true.

Ludwig stood beside the fountain while Feliciano tuned his instrument. He hadn't announced to anyone that he would be performing, but it seemed now that he didn't have to. People were gathering curious around the fountain to see the Allegrian musician. Their faces showed intrigue at his wings and ears and his musical accent. He sang notes and tuned with expert speed.

"Are you going to play soon?" A girl asked. The fairy's head popped up and nodded savagely at her recognition.

It was Ludwig's self-appointed position to make sure Feliciano's performance didn't attract any unwanted attention, whether mercenary or ordinary perturber. Kiku stood near him, just as silent and serious. Ludwig scanned over the small crowd. Nothing looked too suspicious as of yet. There weren't any guards closing in on the area. He didn't recognize any of these people. They must have simply been civilians.

But even that was up for speculation. Any one of these people could be that tricky, shapeshifting mercenary whom Ludwig hadn't seen in any alternate form except of Feliciano and himself. He couldn't gauge the changeling's behavior. Gilbert's lifestyle was way too different for Ludwig to be anything but ignorant. He was in the dark and uncertain.

"I'm ready," Feliciano said sweetly. He stood on the fountain's edge and placed his hands on his lute lovingly. Then he addressed the audience. " _Buonasera._ My name is Feliciano. I'd like to play a little for you tonight. It's a song to find hidden things. I'm hoping to find something here. Maybe you'll find something you've been looking for too."

His wings flicked once, sending a small shower of fairy dust into the water. Then he placed his fingers on the strings and played. The song had a bittersweet little prelude of longing and dissatisfaction. He furrowed his brow and focused intently on multiple triplet runs in a row.

And then he sang. His words were Allegrian. A simple harmony over the melody he weaved with his fingers and the strings. A determined counter-tenor complement to the lute's light, twanging timbre. The words were pithy, and he repeated them several times with a slight difference each time. He seemed to be puzzled the more times he sang it.

The second time he was through the words, Ludwig saw the one called Alphonse weaving through the crowd excitedly. It almost seemed as if his very presence made the people part for two of him. Was that all an illusion, or were people still parted even after he had gone through, like there was someone else with him? Ludwig shook his head and regained his composure. He had to keep on eye on Alphonse. Ludwig was simply uncertain. Alphonse's story seemed believable enough, but trust was wearing thin on the front for anyone with a believable story.

Feliciano suddenly switched to a lucid language so his song could be heard and understood. Ludwig saw him bob his head in recognition at Alphonse's presence.

 **" _I'm searching for a thing that has been lost.  
A thing just out of sight.  
A thing ne'er here nor there.  
_** _ **I'm searching for my amulet."** _

Again, he sang it several times, replacing the word _amulet_ with the words _sogno, treasure, inheritance,_ and even _magic._ His voice rose and became stronger and more determined the more times he sang it. When he finally replaced the blank space with _magic,_ he flew a few feet in the air and hovered. He spun this way and that to search for anything that may be showing its location or flying up to him or however the summoning spell worked.

It appeared that no such thing was happening for the fairy, but Ludwig soon noticed something else strangely magical taking place. Alphonse was speaking to someone near him, but no one around him was looking at him or speaking back. Then his wrist, the one that was hurting earlier, moved into a strange position. Ludwig peered closer. Alphonse had turned his eyes back to Feliciano, but his wrist was still in that strange position, and a small bruise on the underside had begun to disappear. The color in his hand returned miraculously.

As far as abilities went, Ludwig knew changelings couldn't heal themselves at will; that was light magic. So what was he seeing right in front of him? A _human_ magically healing in broad daylight? And who was he talking to? This was too suspicious to go unnoticed. He at least needed to know how it was happening.

Feliciano was again sitting on the edge of the fountain singing the same song over and over. Most onlookers had dissipated by now. Alphonse was one of a few left standing and listening respectfully while the fairy tried different words in the song. _Magical amulet. Wish-granter. Roma's gift._ He was beginning to look downtrodden at the lack of activity spurring from his music. Still, he kept singing.

"Alphonse," Ludwig greeted. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Luddy, great to see you," Alphonse replied with a grin. "Feli's a great singer. I almost feel enchanted."

"Enchanted? Yes, his magic is strong. He knows spells that can put a man to sleep and a spell that causes pain to dark creatures." He looked at Alphonse intently. The boy's eyes showed no great response to the mention of the spell. He simply nodded in agreement that Feliciano was a talented magician.

"Do you have any wizard friends where you go to school?" Ludwig continued.

"It's not a magic school," Alphonse said. "I study biology. Ornithology to be more specific. The study of birds. However, Scintillatia does have a pretty large magic population. I've seen some towns almost as stir-crazy as this one about keeping dark fairies out."

"So you're not a wizard, and you don't have any magic friends?"

"Me? No."

"Then why did your wrist just heal itself?"

Alphonse looked down at his wrist. His eyes widened. "Wow, hey, that fairy medicine musta kicked in! It doesn't even hurt anymore. I'd like to thank the fairy who made it."

"Could I see this medicine? Volkerburg is a human country, and even being friends with Feliciano hasn't taught me too much on the subject."

Alphonse patted his pockets. "Well, yeah, here. Let me just find it. Here it is." He held up a little purple pouch. "It's in powder form. Cool, huh?"

"And this is to take away the pain _and_ remove bruises from squeezing it?"

"Well, yeah, I don't know how it works. It must be some kinna all-around miracle powder. Heals everything."

"Could I try some?"

"It's prescription. Made with my blood."

"So it's dark magic?"

"Sure is. I didn't tell you. It's from the Isle of Rain. They banned the dark arts there maybe like twenty years ago now, but some o' them practice it illegally. I heard of this one guy who did something atrocious. Just awful. I don't know what it was, but apparently they arrested him and took all his books n' stuff away and made people breathe down his neck all the time."

"Is this the man who made the powder for you?"

"Oh, yeah, it's him."

"You deal with oversea illegal magicians?"

"A stretch, but basically."

"What is this magician's name?"

"Operates under the pseudonym of 'Lord Octopodes.'"

"And how could this magician get a blood sample, make you a magic powder, and send it to you without anyone noticing?"

"He has a secret portal in his basement."

When Alphonse said this, there was an audible facepalm from somewhere in the vicinity.

"I don't believe you," Ludwig said. "That sounds ridiculous."

"It's true. I've been through it."

"How did you even find out about this man?"

"Dude sends messenger birds through the portal asking if we've got any ailments that need curing."

"Who is the invisible person standing next to you?"

"What?"

"Who is _this?"_ Ludwig asked. He shoved his weight onto where a footprint on a garden square had appeared out of nowhere. Surprisingly, he actually felt the presence of a person there. The person gave a startled _ouch_ when Ludwig found its arm and squeezed it tightly. He felt along an unseeable torso, neck, face. Ah yes, the jaw, and then the ear. Pointed. _Fairy._

"An invisible fairy," Ludwig remarked, "is a much better explanation for how your wrist magically healed itself. It also explains who you were talking to when you got here. Who is this, Alphonse, and who are _you?"_

"Doggie?" Feliciano asked. "Who is what? What are you holding onto?"

* * *

Arthur struggled. Ludwig's grip was like steel. He had a sudden flashback to the several times he'd used magic and felt the Council's metal suppressor squeeze hungrily around his wrist. Quickly, he took his other hand and worked a nasty little hex. He shoved it into Ludwig's heart, and vicious green static danced on his fingers. Ludwig released and clutched his chest in pain.

"Doggie! What happened?" Feliciano ran up to his friend and rubbed his back. "What do you mean 'invisible fairy?' Who's there? Alphonse, are you okay?"

This was bad. Arthur dashed over to Alfred and elbowed him. "We have to leave. Now."

"Nah, man, don't mess up my game," Alfred whispered harshly.

"Secret portal in the basement? 'Lord Octopodes?' You're a terrible liar."

"There, you're talking to him," Ludwig growled. "He's your friend. You said you don't have any magical friends."

"He didn't summon it," Arthur hissed. "It didn't work."

Ludwig suddenly grasped Alfred's shoulder with one meaty hand. He took the other and pulled his left ear. "How did you get this nick?"

"Guys at the school were throwing knives during archery practice and I was being stupid running in front of them."

"Why didn't you ask your foreign magician to heal it for you?"

"It looks cool. No, dude, I'm telling the truth! I think it looks cool! Stop pulling!"

"And your all-around miracle powder didn't heal it?"

"Shit," Alfred hissed under his breath.

"Let's go," Arthur said.

Alfred cocked his head to the side and looked at him. "The jig is up. Can't back down now." He turned to Ludwig. "So, what kind of spell did you put on Feliciano that makes him think he wants to give you the amulet? I mean, obviously, you're not too ignorant in magic if you've done some mind-meddling. Or maybe it's not you who's doing it. Someone you're related to? A brother?"

Ludwig stood stupefied. Feliciano took a step toward the apparent human. "Mind-meddling?" The fairy asked.

"Dude, you're under a dark spell. Did you know that?"

"Doggie didn't put a spell on me."

"No, I _didn't_ _._ Once again, who are you, and who is your invisible friend? You wouldn't happen to be _mercenaries?"_

"I dabble," Alfred said.

"Mercenaries?" Feliciano said. "No, you're not a mercenary, Alphonse. How could you be?"

"I'm not a mercenary," Alfred said as he rubbed his hands together. "I thought I was a friend. Why would I be a mercenary? What do mercenaries have to do with any of this?"

This had to end now. Arthur grabbed Alfred's arm and yanked. Alfred stumbled sideways, but he dug his heels into the cobblestone path and hung onto his position. Arthur pulled as hard as he could. He waved Alfred's hand up and down to drive his invisible existence into the others' heads. This had been a complete waste of time. Feliciano had _not_ summoned the amulet with his magic. Alfred had screwed up and blatantly lied. The last thing for them to figure out was Alfred's true nature, and then both of them would be in really big trouble.

"Admit it," Ludwig said. "You're one of them. You said it yourself. You accuse me of associating with malevolent magic and poisoning Feliciano's mind. I don't know why I didn't realize it earlier, _Alphonse._ Or is that not your real name? I think Feliciano told me the name of the changeling who took his place that night. Alf- _red_ _._ Is that your name?"

"What if it is? You gonna sound the alarm? Summon the guards?"

"Don't… be… bloody _thick!"_ Arthur pulled Alfred's arm so forcefully he thought it must have been causing some pain on the other end. "Sparrow! _Sparrow!"_

Ludwig seized the scissors from Feliciano's now frozen person and pointed them at Alfred, who instantly recoiled and whined in his throat.

"Just _run_ with me! We have to leave! The sun is almost down! They're going to burn the incense!"

"And may I ask what is going on here? I was informed there was a disturbance." Arthur turned. There was Francis, standing behind all of them and looking very cross.

" _You,"_ Ludwig snarled. "You're the one behind all of this. You explain yourself right now. Explain why you think I'm such a bad friend that you need to abuse us all along our quest."

" _Excusez-moi,_ but I do not understand. Why is this argument taking place? What do you two have between you? Young man, are you feeling threatened?" He put his hand on Alfred's shoulder. He had begun right up again with pressing on his wrist.

"Francis, he won't leave," Arthur forced.

"I will deal with you later," Francis hissed. "Now explain. I'm a knight. Is this man threatening you?"

"No, he's not," Alfred whined. Ludwig didn't drop the scissors.

"Oh, for the love of wine. Drop those. Is _this_ what's going on?" Francis pulled a pair of scissors from his belt pouch and wiped them on each side of Alfred's face. Arthur had to hold him to stop him from charming the knight into sleep. Yet no burns painted his cheeks and no flames arose on the skin. The scissors had no effect.

"This boy is safe," Francis continued loudly for the last of the people milling around. "Nothing to see here. He is completely safe. Perfectly human." He tugged Alfred's ears affectionately.

"He is _not_ human!" Ludwig yelled. "That man is a changeling! _I_ bit that chip out of his ear! He turned into Feliciano and pretended to be him! You are working with him, and all three of you are against me. You're the mercenaries someone sent after us."

"Monsieur, you are hysterical," Francis said authoritatively. "A changeling burns. This boy did not burn, so he is not a changeling."

"That's right! I'm _not!"_ Alfred exclaimed, coming to his senses. "Why would I be? This city's protected by the salt ring. Although I do believe that you should really take that spell off of Feliciano! That's sick and messed up, man! Taking away his inheritance!? Giving it to a _dark wizard?_ Lying to him-mmph!"

Arthur cringed upon shoving his fingers in Alfred's mouth. "Sparrow," he whispered in his ear. "Let's find one. Quickly. Into the pocket with you."

" _Nooo,"_ Alfred whined through the bond.

"I don't want to have to hurt you. Now _come on."_

Alfred bit down. His teeth sharpened.

"You _arsehole!_ You, er—" Arthur saw bite marks in his own fingers. His visibility was returning.

"Now, sir, I must request that you keep your voice down in the evening. We do have special areas within the city for keeping noise pollution to a minimum, and this is unfortunately one of them." Francis kept lecturing Ludwig like he was an angry protester.

"You kidnapped my friend," Ludwig said. "You put _him_ in Feliciano's place. Then you sent the hoofed creature to attack me."

"I would hate to interject, but you also put a spell on Fairy-ciano that prevents him from running away if he believes he is threatened by a dark fairy," Kiku said. "If you would kindly lift that spell from him, he would be most grateful, as would Doggie-san."

"Exactly," Ludwig said, peeved that this could come up in the conversation. "But the most important thing. Stop following us. I am not the brother of a dark wizard, nor am I affiliated with such magic."

"Why does Feli have a spell on him then?" Alfred shouted. But he was already being whisked away from the scene with some coercion from Arthur's magic.

"That boy is not a changeling," Francis stressed again.

"And I will prove to you that he is." Without warning, Ludwig bolted after the two fairies with Feliciano's scissors ready in his right hand. Arthur let go of Alfred instantly. The two started running through the street faster and faster.

"Split up!" Alfred yelled.

"No way!"

"You've got scissors! Just prove yourself if they suspect you or tease you!"

"Alfred, you've got to get out of here, and I'm not letting you go where I can't see you!"

"Quick then! This way!" He tugged Arthur's arm and led him down a side street. Arthur started huffing. He was not in shape for this. His vest was getting wet and his disheveled hair fell into his eyes. He groaned after slamming headfirst into a tree and dashing dizzily down another street.

"What's the fastest way out of the city?"

"Don't know, but we can't really think rationally right now! Best way I see to do it is just to let 'im chase us until it gets dark enough. He can't say out too late or he'll turn into Doggie, basically jeopardizing the city's trust of him and putting whatever blame was just put on me on the back burner. Once he changes, I'll go eagle and show you how to get to the hole in the ring. Killing two birds with one stone, well, metaphorically."

"Yes, but what did Francis say would happen if you breathed in the incense?"

"IDK, man!"

"Fool!"

"How old are you?"

"Why does that matter? I'm three-and-twenty!"

"Okay, I'll let you call me a fool, then. I'm a whole decade younger."

"What's that supposed to mean? I thought you were an undergrad. Oh, oh, _Oberon_ _,_ you grow fast, don't you!? That's why you're so childish!"

Alfred didn't reply. They were now scrambling down a tight alley flanked on either side by exotic-looking potted plants. Arthur's legs itched furiously. He brought the ridge of his boot up to scrape against the inside of his thigh. His forehead was sticky with sweat. He wiped some of it with his wrist and breathed heavily. At the end of the alley was a gate leading into the street. Alfred grabbed the bars with both hands to try and climb over. His wrists and chin brushed the bars and he screeched. His skin glowed scarlet.

"No no no! Shit! It's iron! We have to go back the other way. I can't touch it!"

"Back the other way? Just don't touch it with your bare skin!"

"Just go! Run back and turn left once you get to the end of the alley. Damn, this really hurts!" He put one wrist in his mouth, but it was too hot to even suck on.

"So there you two are," Ludwig said. He swung into the alley and started to walk toward them coolly. He flipped the scissors with his hand. "Ah, is that an iron gate?"

Alfred made an incomprehensible noise of frustration and coughed into his elbow.

"Francis lost track of me," Ludwig said. "I can't do much here to prove whether you're evil or not. Frankly, I don't care whether you're a changeling or a chicken. I just want you and your little play group to stop hassling me."

"I'm not evil!" Alfred shouted. He coughed again.

"I know you probably aren't. I just want you to stop thinking that I am."

"But you are!"

"You misunderstand," Ludwig snapped.

"Look," Arthur said, "we've been following you for days and days. We know what you're up to. We _know_ Feliciano's mind has been meddled with. We don't know who wrote the letter summoning us, but at least we know something is amiss."

"Feliciano's mind is none of your concern."

"So, s-so you admit that something's wrong wiss him!" Alfred retorted, his voice suddenly uneven and thick. Arthur looked to his companion. His eyes were red and swollen with sleepiness. He coughed more and sniffled.

"You're sick," Ludwig said. "You need to get out of the city. It will only get worse."

"I'm n-not sick! An' 'oo cares if I am sick. It'th not like I can't walk or fight you."

"That's not what I mean. It's the incense. I've seen it before. It won't just make you sick if you stay here much longer. It's a powerful weapon."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"In Volkerburg, the incense is called _Enthüllung._ 'Disclosure.' You will lose control over your powers and ultimately reveal your true form to any and all present. You won't be able to change into anything else."

"Liar," Alfred grumbled. He rubbed his bleary eyes. "I can control my powers just fine, thank you."

"Go," Ludwig said. He gestured to the other end of the alley. "Just go. Save yourself. I'm serious."

"An' I'm stherious about makin' sure you keep your dark wizard away from that fairy and his treasure! I'm a hero!"

"You just be happy I'm letting you go!" Ludwig snapped. "Go on! Get out of the city! Move!"

"Why do you care!?" Alfred yelled. "I feel spry as a thpring chicken! Though, kinda sleepy. And… warm."

Ludwig lunged forward and grabbed Alfred's shoulders. He pulled him upright and started marching him to the other side of the alley. Arthur followed. There were no sides here. Alfred was in danger. And just like with the salt ring, Arthur was feeling a little stuffed up as well.

"Let go of me! I'll fight you just like I did back in the woods!"

"Back in the woods…" Ludwig suddenly froze. He looked to the sky. The sun was gone. The sky was a deep blue, and stars were peeking out on its deep, celestial fabric. Ludwig's face was completely illuminated. One foot was out in the shadowless street. "This is bad."

"Ha! Therves you right! Kennel time!" Alfred rubbed snot away with his wrist.

"Damn this curse," Ludwig hissed. "But at least you can go. Artie, was it?"

"Arthur."

"Take him. Please." He couldn't get any more out. Ludwig was changing. He gripped the wall on either side of him, and his growing claws scraped gashes in the brick.

"I will," Arthur said. "Alfred, we have to leave him and go."

Alfred was growing unusually pale.


	28. The Night Might Damage Ya

Alfred felt fine. A little congested and sleepy, but fine. His will was his own. He was firmly in control of the situation no matter what anyone else thought. Leaving a perfectly good Ludwig here for the guards to find and flying the coop? Now, with the dog-man more or less trapped with his paw-hands too bulky to handle tiny scissors, it sounded ridiculous. Alfred was back in hero mode, and he was not going to leave so easily.

"Good _gods,_ you already bit the wrong person tonight! Do you realize you became sick instantly after that scent started wafting?" Arthur scolded. "Did you even hear what Ludwig said? Look at you! You're getting pale!"

"I'm not changing," Alfred retorted. "I'd know if I was. Now man up. We're not done here. Doggie hathn't told us how to break the thpell that's on Felishiano."

"Leave!" Ludwig commanded with a monstrous roar. He snapped his jaws and rose to his full height. "There is nothing you can do, anyway."

"You keep admitting it! You keep thaying he's under a thpell and I wanna know how to break it! It'th not _fair!"_ Alfred was furious. And it was a vehement yet childish fury. A greenish veil of energy began binding his arms to his sides and pulling him backwards. His voice rose in his throat, and he exploded into a mad, aquiline twittering while he struggled in Arthur's grasp.

"Will you quit being such a self-righteous ninny? This is not the time nor the place to pick a fight," Arthur said. "Do you really want the guards to find you two here?"

"I don' care what happenth to _him!"_

"Oh, and what about _you?"_

"I feel fine! I'm just a little thtuffy. Lemme take 'im down! Lemme jus' _see_ him! I don't want to retreat!" By this time, Arthur had managed to drag the incensed changeling out of the alley and into the darkening street. He closed the magical grip tighter. Alfred coughed.

"You're going to attract the guards with that volume. Keep your voice down and just listen to me. We need to get out of here. Because yes, you _are_ changing. Look at yourself."

"Nuh-uh! I'm not, and I'm not weak! I'm not—wha!?" He hadn't noticed it before because it was weaker and slower than he was used to, but he recognized it. The familiar, warm itching of transformation was spreading through him. He'd mistaken it for part of the sleepiness. Alfred looked down at his side. The skin of his wrist above the glove was a twinge paler than it had been a few moments ago. And was he imagining things, or did he feel his fingers growing longer... without his command?

"If you're interested in knowing, you don't look too fair… yet. Your sudden cold is a good cover-up for your complexion," Arthur whispered. "But you certainly look questionable."

"No prob," Alfred said nervously. "I jus' gotta focuth." He closed his eyes and concentrated on the flowing magic. He willed his body to return to a fully human form, imagining all the minutiae and tiny changes taking place. The transformative heat and pressure strengthened for a second. He felt the stretched fingers return to their normal size. The gloves were loose and comfortable again.

"That looks a bit better," Arthur said. "Let's go this way."

Alfred shook his head. He opened his eyes and glanced back to the dog-man's alley.

"No," Arthur said firmly.

"But I feel fine now!"

"You're still sick."

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what being thick is!"

"Stuff a sock in it, Alfred."

Alfred huffed. He crossed his arms and sulked behind the shorter fairy. Of all the few chances he would get to fight the dog-man, why did he have to lose one because Arthur was sour? Arthur wasn't his superior, no matter how much older he was or how much money he had. In that alley was a real monster with its claws around an innocent and talented noble's mind. Sacrifices had to be made in the name of justice and kickassery! Screw being sick. Screw any adversity that may arise in the thrill of a fight. Screw the fact that for some reason the gloves were getting tight again.

 _No, wait, don't screw that,_ Alfred thought warily. He raised an eyebrow and removed the leather glove from his right hand. It was steadily losing its color and fullness. The nails were growing and sharpening. Alfred squeezed it into a fist. _Nice, strong human hand. Not scrawny. Smooth pink nails._ He felt it swell for only a second before continuing down the wrong path. His magic was disobeying him. His mental commands were muffled, and his power swirled madly within to relieve him of this alternate form.

Fortunately, the changes didn't get any faster than they were before. He had time before he was completely deep-woods horror. Alfred shifted into a practical, logical gear. His heart sped. He couldn't be seen like this, especially not here! No, this was bad. It was like when he was first born and started changing uncontrollably into anything he looked at.

"Okay," he said meekly, "I think I underthtan' now." The warmth spread to his face. His ears tingled.

"You can't control your magic?" Arthur bit his lip.

"N-no, it's not working. I'm trying to transform, but my magic keeps doing the opposite. And I can't st-stop." He sneezed violently.

"Where's the Invisibility Dust? You have that, don't you?"

"Good idea. Where did I put it? I had it and showed it to Ludwig and—" Alfred blanched paler than he already was. His deepening eyes grew wide. "I might've dropped it while we were running. It'th not in any of my pocketh."

"How could you drop it!?"

"I'm not thaying I dropped it. I'm thaying I don't have it, which meanth I probably dropped it."

"Well, bloody hell! We might as well run, then!" Arthur exclaimed with fake enthusiasm. He started running down the street and down into another. Alfred followed. Anywhere was good at this point. He brushed a hand against his left ear. It wasn't too round anymore, and it stuck out too long to be covered by his hair. At best, he was a sun-shy light fairy with abnormally thin hands.

"I remember being here earlier," Alfred whispered. They looked out out on a buzzing, nighttime street lit up with bright gold lanterns. Faint music sounded from inside one of the establishments. A few people milled about outside traveling from one party to another or to home. The guards hadn't moved from their positions. At least one thing was better about his situation. His senses were sharpening. He could smell the herbs the guards kept from across the street. His nose wrinkled. It was much stronger now.

"Let's just act casual. We came from that way earlier. Let's quickly go back up that way."

"My ears—"

"You're not the only one here who has pointy ears," Arthur snapped. "Lots of guards over there, correct? I'll walk on the outside."

To emphasize apparent normalcy, Arthur took both his scissors and the ones Alfred used and held one pair in each hand. He put his shoulders back, and together, they walked briskly in plain sight down the street. Alfred forced himself to not look at the guards out of the corner of his eye. He could already hear them whispering. He focused in on the voices. They were in Amotoile's language. He couldn't understand. No, did an ear just _flick?_ They couldn't be long enough for that yet! He tried thinking inconspicuous thoughts. By this time he couldn't even get a grip on the changes. They were happening of their own accord in an unpredictable order. It was as if he had drunk a potion.

"They're onto me," he said. "They're onto me."

"Take these," Arthur said. Alfred knew what that meant. He wet his throat and grasped the scissors without looking down. His hand shuddered feverishly. Cold sweat beaded on his brow. Even his dark instincts were beginning to come into their full forte. The magnetic sixth sense pushed him away from irony wards before he even knew they were there. His ears flicked again. He chewed on his lip with dagger-like teeth.

"A-artie? How bad doeth it look?"

Arthur stole a glance. From his face, Alfred knew it wasn't good. That was the face Arthur made when Alfred took off his glasses. That minuscule brow raise, the tightening of the lips, the fearful glint in those emerald eyes, and in another second, it was gone and replaced by a facade of indifference.

"You're," Arthur started. "You're not human."

"Duh."

"But you're not... completely shifted."

"So my ears aren't too long?"

"Oh, no, your ears are fully you-know-what."

"And my face?"

"Long, pointed, blue star on your nose, and most of your hair is white. And you're… very thin."

"So I'm bathically a—"

"Yes."

"In plain thight."

"Yes."

"That is a problem."

"Oh, really?" Arthur bit with venomous sarcasm. "Well, it wasn't a problem for you _last time."_

It took him a few seconds to figure out the statement. "I didn't show them _this_ in Lafée. I just _told_ them and turned into the barkeep and jumped up on the table. Dude, I was methin' with them. They were wathted."

 _Flick._ Voices, familiar, determined and with conviction, coming closer. A repugnant, rotting smell. Scissors. Lots of scissors.

Alfred froze.

"Help me," He squeaked. "They're coming."

"Run," Arthur said. "I'll hold them off."

"Where?"

"Just run!"

Well, this was certainly embarrassing. One moment, Alfred was standing firm, and the next, he was flying away from the scene frantically and with no particular destination in mind. He heard shouting from behind. The guards were calling out to him. They commanded him to cease and return to be captured and taken away. Alfred didn't understand their tongue, but he knew by their angered tone that they meant business. And yet, at the same time, they sounded brutally surprised. The salt ring must have been parted for a changeling to enter, and he would have to get through the gate and evade the constant wards. Alfred figured the incense didn't reveal anyone too often.

Arthur had created an impenetrable wall of force to keep the guards from following. Alfred kept glancing over his shoulder. He hated having to run. It was simply degrading. A good guy wasn't supposed to run from other good guys. Even more degrading was that he kept running into people who shrieked in surprise and pointed wards at him with trembling hands. He cursed when a nail hit him in the face and left a searing mark on his cheek. Some of these people looked puzzled at first, as if they'd never even seen a real one before and just knew how ugly they were from stories like in Arthur's book. Eventually, though, these people screamed and tried to hit him and throw things at him. And Alfred couldn't transform. It was so stupid. Such a rudimentary folly _._ To them, he was a hideous dark beast, and his only means of disguise had been stripped away.

" _Hey, kid."_

 _Alfred stiffened and turned slowly. He looked 'round. His hearing focused. A thin shadow of a man stepped out from behind a thick maple. His face was obscured by his hood, but Alfred could see his hands. He gasped. Those hands — they were pale and bony like his. Was this man like him? So there really were_ _others like him._

" _You weren't just going to walk into that town looking like that, were you?"_

" _N-no, uh, yes…?" Alfred didn't know what to say. If this man was also a "changeling," then would he empathize?_

" _No matter what you were going to do, it was stupid. You can't go into a town full of stuck-up humans looking like that and ask them to have tea with you. At least get something to cover yourself."_

" _I wanted to steal a cloak in town." His voice, in this time, was pitifully small._

 _The man laughed. It was a raspy, crackling, haughty sort of laugh. "Well, you can't go into town and steal a cloak if you're ugly."_

" _I'm not ugly!"_

" _They think you are." The man pointed toward the town. He came closer and bent down to Alfred's height. He was smiling with crooked, pointy teeth, just like Alfred's. "You know how to transform, don't you?"_

" _Mm-hm. But I don't have anybody to copy unless I go into town."_

" _Did you have a different appearance once?_ _Did your family kick you out?"_

" _Mm, yeah. They weren't humans. Only half. Homo, um, Homoalces."_

 _The man grinned. "We can work with that. You remember what you looked like on top, and I'll help you change your lower half to match."_

What would _he_ have done in this situation? Alfred wondered to himself. The one who got him on his feet and showed him how it all worked? Alfred distinctly remembered that his mentor didn't like using alternate forms even in the presence of humans. _He'd've worn a cloak,_ Alfred thought. _All I've got is this stupid, loose vest._

All his clothing was loose now, which made it even more difficult to run. Alfred snatched his glasses off. They didn't help anyway. Anyone could see his true eyes now, and he didn't need any hindrance to his night vision. He elbowed a willowy woman out of the way. Someone got close and jabbed an iron knife in his direction. He hissed and knocked it down with his wrist, only to aggravate the earlier burn. He clutched the hot skin. A tear tugged at his eye.

Two guards were up the street with bags. They were pouring something onto the stones. It was a white line of salt. He was going to be trapped. He looked down the other way. Two more guards were mirroring the former. In a flash of hope, he saw a long-haired man with a blue cape and a lily crest. Could that be Francis?

No, it wasn't Francis. Alfred's ear twitched. The knight's voice was different. His hair only looked pale in the moonlight.

But wait, a knight who wasn't Francis… that meant knights were after him now as well as guards. Where was Arthur? And where was the real Francis? How long had it taken to attract knights' attention? Guards were escorting people through the street now. At the last second, and with everyone too confused and panicked to notice, Alfred ducked into a glorious, ass-saving alleyway. This one, fortunately, did not have an iron gate at the end. He cautiously looked into the next street. No salt. Good. In fact, this street was relatively lifeless. Its residents had already shut themselves indoors out of fear. Alfred dashed out and around. He noted one person outside who was running pitifully slow and sobbing.

Could that be…? Alfred ducked behind a lamppost. An ear flicked. The accent and wings identified the tearful one as Feliciano, and beside him the spirit. He was calling for Doggie. His voice was shaky. Alfred's heart clenched. He thought of approaching them, but it would only terrify the fairy even more. And chances were, Alfred was the last person Feliciano wanted to see at the moment. The dagger of ill feelings twisted deeper into his chest. He'd promised himself he wouldn't get on Feli's bad side. The painting had been a gift, a token of appreciation and friendship, and yet the truth had come out. When the spell keeping Feli's mind closed was broken, Alfred swore he would make it up to him.

In the moment, he had to do something. The fairy's sad mewling rang out in the night like a lone violin. Perhaps he could still imitate voices. Alfred whispered a few words in Arthur's light accent. It was crisp and accurate. That ability hadn't been tainted.

He ran from the lamppost across the street to another alley. Feliciano looked around warily, but luckily he wasn't seen. Then, he cleared his stuffy throat the best he could and turned upward, facing the sky.

" _Feliciano! I can't go to you! The curse got to me! I'm in an alley with an iron gate on one side and lots of plants! Go to the fountain and follow the small trees!"_

"Doggie!?" Feliciano's quivery voice was unbearably hopeful. "Kiku, that sounded like Doggie, didn't it? Where did it come from?"

"It sounds like we will have to find him," the spirit said.

"I thought it sounded really close," the fairy said, puzzled.

"Well, at least he's got the directions," Alfred whispered. He smiled, at least able to assuage some of Feliciano's stress, and then sprinted out of the alley past the two of them. He didn't hear anything out of Feliciano, but he didn't look back to see if he'd been seen.

Once far enough away from the two of them, Alfred found himself in an eerily similar situation. The streets were vacant. He heard the voices of guards and knights, but no others. The city, at least this part of it, had gone into a sort of lockdown. Breath was being held to see who would successfully chase down and capture the changeling intruder. His ability to hide among humans had already been nullified.

He soon realized that the salt-pourers had strategically moved around to different streets and deposited the barrier there. Sooner or later, Alfred would be fully trapped. Where the heck was Francis during all this? If he wasn't at least _looking_ for Alfred, he would definitely receive a bite to match Arthur's. Sharp teeth on multiple fingers.

" _Il est là-bas_ _!"_

Alfred looked to his left. A small group that included armed guards and one or two knights had spotted him. It seemed almost silly. Instead of swords, they preferred fire pokers as first weapon of choice. It wasn't silly in the least to Alfred. He ultimately chose the flight response, but not before removing the coat and unbuttoning the waistcoat so it didn't feel like a bag draped over him.

He ran once again for several blocks while they pursued. He was growing tired of this. An hour prior, his muscular body could outrun any of these guys. Now his breath was ragged and every new step was painful. And all the fleeing was making him terribly hungry. That was something he could also use Francis for! He thought about screaming his name, but stopped himself when he realized that would cause suspicions.

 _"Arrêtez maintenant!"_

They were closing in on him. He strained his legs and lungs. The path between buildings he'd chosen was narrow. It was hard to maneuver through and gauge following distance at the same time.

There was chattering among the group. If only he could understand their language, he could understand their chase strategy. It was one more advantage they had over him. Ugh, why hadn't he listened when Matthew tried to teach him? That trivial information could have come in handy right about now, especially because he was running out of places to run. He only escaped the narrow path by squeezing through a tight space a salt pour had not covered.

"Wait, is that him?" Alfred's ears perked. He understood.

"Of course. Who else?"

"Alfred? Come over here!"

He glanced around wildly. The voice was feminine. He saw someone beckoning from a small shop door. He bolted toward it and gasped for breath. The group of guards suddenly exploded out behind him. He whined in his throat and put on what felt like a last burst of speed.

"I will take care of those guys, yes?" Alfred looked. There near the shop was Ivan looking proud of himself. He stood to face the pursuers and held out his hand. A freezing chill blasted through the area. In seconds, the guards were ice sculptures.

"Why did you have to do that? Now it's just going to look suspicious if anyone comes this way." It was the woman, but Alfred couldn't lift his face to meet her. He doubled over and clutched his knees. His breathing was harsh and heaving. He swallowed, then broke into a coughing fit.

"Into here now. Goodness, you poor thing. Sit down in here." He was gently guided through the shop — he saw now that it was a sewer's and leatherworker's shop — into a back room. Waiting for him was a huge, comfy chair. He plopped down and looked to the side, continuing to cough.

"You need tea for your throat."

"Shaddup, Mattie," Alfred breathed.

"Who?"

He brought his eyes up slowly. There were the two women before him. The curvy one with short, blonde hair, who was speaking to him, was wearing a worried expression and clutching a blanket which she somewhat threw at him. He took it and unceremoniously used it to wipe the snot and sweat off his face.

"You're safe with us," she said. "You are Alfred, right? We're Ivan's sisters. I'm Irunya, and this is Natalya. Francis told the three of us to keep an eye out for you."

"Franthis was here? Where is he now?" Alfred burst out.

"Looking for you," Irunya said.

"He was pissed," said Natalya. Alfred couldn't help but note she was playing with a pair of scissors. He scooched back in the chair and twittered.

"Put those away," Irunya scolded. "They scare him."

Natalya only brought them closer to the changeling. "Why are you so scared of these? You're a coward."

Alfred didn't feel like explaining. He snuggled back into the chair and squeezed the blanket to his chest. He was safe, he assured himself. He'd been too lucky. It was too close. In a way, perhaps, Francis had a right to be more than miffed that Alfred had disobeyed the order to stay at his house.

But Alfred wasn't going to worry about that now. In a few minutes, he was presented with a hot, sweet cup of tea and a pile of baked buns stuffed with savory beef and cheese. Alfred drowned his mind in the pleasure of food. His hunger was satisfied, and with it the chill of night air and the fear of being chased. Even his burns stopped stinging to a degree, though they were still uncomfortable. His throat felt soothed, and his nose cleared enough to stop him from sounding funny. He suddenly felt very sleepy. The cushy back of the chair felt like a gift he didn't deserve.

Irunya just laughed when he finished the last bun and fished for more in the empty basket. "One would think you wouldn't be so skinny with an appetite like that," she remarked.

"Yeah," he said weakly. "Thanks."

"It's no problem. We aren't exactly the norm here either. Natalya and I are demonesses. We are simply disguised with a little illusion magic to look like humans."

"I thought people weren't afraid of demons."

"Exactly the opposite," Irunya said. "People are terrified of brother. He has locked the lesser demon lands in ceaseless winter for a long time. No one wants to oppose him for the risk of losing warmth in their own countries, so they let us demons come and go at our will. We don't want customers to be intimidated."

"And yet they don't say they're afraid of brother as much as they say they're afraid of this little, scrawny elf-boy," Natalya cut in. "He's not scary at all."

"I try not to be," Alfred said.

Irunya made sure Ivan was still standing sentinel outside before whispering. "That is why we are here, you know. He has become too powerful. The demon king will not relent, and food is becoming scarcer. The two of us became sewers and convinced brother that we would like to start a business endeavor."

Alfred suddenly remembered a funny little fact. "You wouldn't happen to know an earth demon named Tolys, would you? He served in the demon king's court, but he lives in Scintillatia now."

Natalya looked cross. "I remember Tolys," she said. "He was so annoying. I hated seeing his unkempt, messy head every day. He kept following me around everywhere, so I had to follow him around too and steal things from his house." She examined the sleeve of her dress with a gross fascination.

 _So you're the sister he liked,_ Alfred thought. "So, will I be staying here for the night?"

"It looks like it," Irunya said. "We'll have to see what Francis thinks. He said it would depend on if you were revealed in front of everyone."

"That's a yes. As long as they stop burning this nasty stuff in the morning, I should be able to transform again."

"Turn into something scary," Natalya said. "Turn into brother. Turn into a dragon. Set a tree ablaze."

"I'm not trying to make people scared of me. I see myself as more of the heroic type. Saving young nobles from deceitful dudes and dark wizards."

"Ironic," Natalya muttered, her countenance indifferent.

Alfred let out a long yawn. He kicked off his boots and curled his feet up under him. The two demonesses wished him goodnight and blew out the candles. Under the influence of the incense, Alfred found himself dozing in no time. The warm, windowless room brought a quiet peace he didn't know he wanted. The voices in the other room faded. The blanket was so soft. Hand-knitted with love and care.

And then Francis and Arthur showed up and ruined it.

* * *

Alfred jolted awake when he heard angry cursing in the other room. It took him a moment to fully rouse and realize that it was Francis he was hearing. He'd never heard the knight be so creative with his words, patching allusions and languages together like he was furiously sewing a quilt. He'd imputed the art of cursing more to Arthur, who in this case, was the lesser of the two, but still clearly incensed.

"Look at this!" Arthur said. "Look at this! Look again! He _bit_ me!"

"Perhaps you deserved it," Francis retorted. "I imagined you to be a sensible man, Arthur, but you are just as frivolous as we make the Isle fairies out to be. You let him get us into this mess."

"I'll be damned," Alfred yawned. He'd of course meant it in a literal sense.

"You say you've got him in a back room?" Francis continued.

"He is sleeping," Ivan said. "You should not disturb him."

"Oh, I'm going to disturb him," Francis said, his voice rising.

"No rest for the hero," Alfred droned cynically. He heard footsteps approaching the door, and then his eyes stung. He was blinded by the sudden appearance of two fiery individuals whose sole purpose in this moment was to scold him into the ground.

What Alfred said was, "what time is it?"

"An hour past midnight," Francis snapped instantly. He didn't stop. "I don't even know where to begin with you. You can't possibly fathom what you caused tonight. The city is on highest alert!"

"The whole city?"

"The _entire_ city. Inspectors were sent out to find holes in the salt ring an hour ago. No doubt they've found at least one of them by now because of what Arthur told me about neither one of you being able to make it look inconspicuous."

Arthur piped up. "If I may, Francis—"

"Shut it, you insufferable sprite!"

Alfred started to get used to the sudden light. He examined the two men. Francis simply looked overworked and tired. There were bags under his eyes, and only a small bunch of hair was still firmly tied back. The rest hung in shambles upon his shoulders and face. Arthur, on the other hand, was in worse condition. His right hand was wrapped with ruddy blood spotting the cloth, he had a nasty bump on his forehead, and several new-looking bruises marked his person. He stared at the floor a lot and sometimes sneaked glances up at Alfred with his brows furrowed and his lips in a slight frown.

"You are lucky I'm still given leave because of the mission," Francis growled. "Every knight not protecting the people is employed on a manhunt, no, a _monster_ hunt. Changeling. Tall with dark blue eyes. Wearing a blue waistcoat. They even sneaked into the description that star on the bridge of your nose. Not to mention that Arthur was seen defending you. I found him surrounded in that street, and we had to spin a lie that you'd beguiled him into helping you escape. I informed them that he was my companion, and they're still suspicious of him. And then there was the matter of defrosting those poor souls outside and making sure they didn't remember it."

"Your city hates me," Alfred rejoined.

"Our city hates when people are stolen and never heard from again while a conniving…" he broke off, conflicted in his thoughts.

Arthur took the break in fury to pull something out of his pocket. It was the purple pouch.

"Where'd you find it?" Alfred asked.

"At the fountain. Francis said you dropped it when Ludwig grabbed your ear." Arthur's voice was not warm. He did not smile.

"Well, we've got that now. Pretty easy for us to get out of here."

"And how are you going to get across the heavily-guarded barrier?" Francis hissed.

"Well, uh, can't you just, uh, part it or something?"

Francis eyed him incredulously.

He looked to Arthur. "Sparrow in your pocket?"

"They're not going to stop burning it in the morning," Arthur replied darkly. "They won't stop until public fears are assuaged. Luckily, they haven't made the connection between this you and the blond, bespectacled you, but anyone could if they saw that he was running with me or had a good look at his clothes.

"Where did you get the audacity?" Francis scolded. "Why did you come here? I told you I would handle it would the situation arise where the amulet was found. I told you the incense would do this to you. Yet you came here and charmed Arthur into coming with."

"Feliciano's got a spell on his mind," Alfred said. "I wanted to know how to break it. And I wanted to tell him about it. And I promised him I would come. He wanted me to. I was going to leave the city—"

"The way I see it, you were not going to leave the city until it was too late," Arthur cut in. "It took the incense forcing you to change to finally knock some sense into you."

"Well, why'd you come, then?" Alfred was getting defensive.

"To protect you and stop you from being rash," Arthur said. "And I did, didn't I? Of course, you're too dense to realize you're in danger until it hits you in the face."

"Might I remind you, Arthur, that you agreed with him in the first place that going into the city was a good idea," reasoned Francis. "You didn't think first as much as he didn't. You didn't say to yourself, 'my, perhaps Francis is right. The city could become dangerous at night for a changeling.' You just assumed that you would take care of whatever business was necessary and leave the city unharmed and unnoticed. You might as well have _both_ used that Invisibility Dust. At least then you wouldn't have dropped it and doomed yourselves."

"Am I doomed?"

"If we can't get you out of this city," Francis said tiredly.

"Can we just talk about this in the morning?" Alfred whined. "I'm tired, and I was having a good dream. I'm not the type of person who likes to have good dreams and have people barging into the room to annoy me."

"The alternative is us eating your food," Arthur muttered.

"I heard that."

Francis gave a frustrated sigh. "You two are to remain in this room until morning or until you can come up with an idea to fix this. I am too tired myself to keep digging this hole." He got up and moved towards the door. "Ah, though before I forget, these were supposed to be a gift for you, Alfred. I visited a silver smith this morning after you'd wandered off. I don't know if you'll like them or not, but they work like they're supposed to." He reached into his pouch and pulled out the silver-hewn scissors. He put them on the small table and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

"So, Arts, you're not actually angry with me, are you? Tell me Francy was just riling you up."

"You bit me," Arthur said. His tone was matter-of-fact, like such an act was a common occurrence. He started unwrapping his hand. The punctures were deep and splayed across three fingers. A muscle twitched in Alfred's jaw. He averted his gaze.

"So, you're actually angry."

"You tell me," Arthur said, still with the intimidating indifference.

"I… bit you."

"And…?"

"And what?"

"And you made your teeth sharp."

There was a long silence.

"And you trapped yourself here and _humiliated_ me."

"Throwing the blame on me, are you?"

"It was your decision to disobey Francis."

"And yours to come along."

"And yours to sink your _fangs_ into my _fingers."_ He splayed his hand out and angled it toward the changeling. Alfred winced.

"If you think you're going to turn into a changeling now, I don't think it works like that."

"Well, good," Arthur said bitterly. "So you're not going to apologize, then?"

"About biting you or getting us in trouble?"

Arthur gave an exasperated sigh. "Start with the bite."

"I'm sorry," Alfred said. "I was too caught up in the moment. I can be a little passionate sometimes, especially if I'm standing up for someone. He was right there, and so was Feliciano, and I got fired up. You wouldn't let me say what I had to. I didn't care what happened to me."

Arthur sat on the floor. "I should have known better than to just put them where your teeth were, I guess."

"It's… it's not the first time."

"What."

"It's not the first time I got too audacious and ended up in so much trouble. In fact, I think I bit someone that time, too." He lifted a hand and turned, brushing snowy hair away from his neck. The silvery scar stood out lighter than his already blanched skin. "I got this on my last day with Mattie. Long story short, I was a little too mean to some traders picking on my brother. They were fairies, so they could see my Depth. They decided to show the whole village my secret."

"They burned you?"

Alfred nodded. "They forced me to show what I really was. I did. By midnight I was miles from Dinsmoor." He shook his head to extinguish the memory. "Anyway, I didn't mean to bite you. Do you think your fingers will heal okay?"

"I'll heal them, and I might as well heal your burns," Arthur said. "I am a fairy. Injury is evanescent. Just like in Lafée after I was attacked because people thought I was you."

There was a longer silence.

"What?" They said it simultaneously, but with different inflections.


	29. Just Beat It

Ludwig had a headache.

He kept running over everything in his mind down to the fine points and details, but the events of the previous day and evening still boiled like a chunky soup that had too many ingredients carelessly dropped into its undulating heat. Ludwig himself had been careless. How had he not realized the sudden absence of sunlight and the stars just waiting to shine on him? And how had he not questioned Alfred _before_ he showed up at the fountain with his accomplices? The wild glances and wrist-squeezing were quite obviously nervous tics. He looked too uncomfortable with entering a place where scissors hung above the doorframe. And the nick in his ear. That _nick._ He should've realized something was familiar about it long before he examined it up close.

But he hadn't. And Alfred had fooled him again. His lies were as smooth and caramelized as any truth, at least up until at the fountain. Then Alfred just got cocky. All it took was to point out a rip in his stretching story for him to start piecing together as outlandish and unbelievable an alibi as possible.

Alfred should've known better than to test his wiles on a swap-child.

So that was Alfred, the changeling and hot-headed, self-proclaimed hero. Ludwig wasn't sure if the young, golden-haired form was his preferred avatar, but it had most certainly been him. Iron burned him. The incense affected him. He made odd noises when distressed. And he was the one who took Feliciano's place and had almost stolen the wand. He was a clever fiend, and he'd just made it very clear that he did not stand for Gilbert's mind-warp.

But that was just it, Ludwig thought. How did Alfred know about Gilbert's spell? How did he suspect that something was off with Feliciano? Could it have been because Feliciano froze back in the woods? Could Alfred, as a changeling, sense such magic roiling within others? Had Lovino somehow made contact with the mercenaries? The question just made the foggy, frothing thoughts thicker.

Ludwig looked down to his lap where Feliciano was resting his head. He'd awoken some time earlier to change back to human form, and Feliciano had neither said ' _Buongiorno, Doggie,'_ nor anything at all. He lifted his head calmly when Ludwig finished his transformation, having given no reaction whatsoever to the event, and then calmly rested his head in his friend's lap when he sat again. That had been another matter entirely the previous night. He and Kiku had somehow found him in the alley and claimed he'd given them directions, which he hadn't. The fairy's face was sticky with tears, and the spirit looked unsure of what to do in such an emotional crisis. All this came after a great bout of screaming and scurrying coming from a few streets down, which Ludwig could only suspect was caused by Alfred. Feliciano confirmed this, but mentioning anything about the changeling's identity just made him even more upset.

"I froze again," he sobbed. "I froze again, and he said you put a spell on me even though he did. It was Alfred who put a spell on me so I wouldn't run away."

 _But Alfred didn't put a spell on you,_ Ludwig thought to himself.

"And he was so _nice_ to me. He really liked my art. He smiled and said he liked it. I worked so hard on it. He was such a good friend, if only for an afternoon. Why do these things happen? Why won't they leave us alone? Why did such a nice guy have to be a monster? Why did he lie?"

"I'm sure he's deluded," Ludwig had said. But Alfred was only partly deluded. There really was a spell on Feliciano's mind. Ludwig had even made the mistake of telling two mercs that. No matter. Ludwig had been right. Only Gilbert could undo the spell. The problem was that Alfred didn't know that, and surely he and the others would persist until they discovered it for themselves. No, Gilbert would be the one to undo the spell. And then…

Ludwig would have to tell Feliciano that Alfred was not the one to blame.

It was a hard notion to ponder, but something had been growing in Ludwig for the past few days. It was some species of guilt, and it only fed on Feliciano's worrying and frequent blaming of others. Feliciano himself was deluded, and he was deluded against his will. It kept him from knowing the truth: Alfred and his gang were mostly in the right, and Ludwig was being a bit dishonest.

Still, Alfred and Francis and whoever else were just that. _Mostly_ in the right. They and that damn writer were all taking this way too seriously. The infamous dark wizard they'd been told about was just Gilbert, a changeling who liked to mess with people as all changelings did. Gilbert stated right at the beginning that the amulet belonged to Feliciano. Feliciano would be wiped clean. No spells twisting his logic and bias. Nothing. He would have his rightful treasure and be back in Allegria munching on bruschetta and spending his days in habitual torpor. Gil wanted beer and notoriety and whatever else he could dream up since Ludwig had seen him last. Ludwig simply wanted a life without his curse. Then he would be satisfied and could enjoy waking up in the morning without rodents in his belly or the echo of beastly instinct imprinting on his mind.

Ludwig had to stop thinking. He had a headache, and the stream of thoughts was overflowing and flooding the banks of his composure. As Gilbert would say, it was too early in the morning to consider such things. He awkwardly brought a hand down and brushed some bright, reddish-brown hair out of the fairy's face. Not that it mattered since Feliciano was still sleeping, but the lack of neatness had been bothering him. Feliciano felt it and cracked an eye open. He instantly shut it again and resumed his steady breathing. This also slightly bothered Ludwig. Feliciano had been whiny about wanting to sleep in before, but at least he had been whiny and not strangely silent.

Ludwig decided to break the silence. "Lovely morning."

"A very lovely morning, Doggie-san," Kiku said. He was standing nearby and observing some pigeons on a rooftop. If he was at all disturbed by the night's events, he did not show it.

"I'm surprised it's not as cold as it was yesterday."

"It appears to be much sunnier this morning. I would know nothing of temperature."

"Did anything interesting happen after I fell asleep?"

"As far as I know, no," Kiku replied. "Fairy-ciano did not fall asleep until perhaps a few hours ago. There did not appear to be any more activity related to the changeling sighting. He must still be hiding somewhere in the vicinity."

There was a sudden pressure on Ludwig's leg. The fairy was squeezing it.

"It's all right, Feliciano," Ludwig assured. "We're safe. He's hiding because he knows what's good for him. He won't come after you." Ludwig hadn't told Feliciano about his encounter with Alfred in the alley. The last thing the fairy needed to know was that Ludwig let him run and try to save himself. If he hadn't, Alfred would've been caught by now.

Feliciano cracked his eyes open again and yawned. He sat up cross-legged. His wings hung lifeless behind him. They no longer sparkled in the light. They were dull and tarnished and looked like withering leaves in autumn.

"Did you sleep well?" Ludwig asked. He knew it was a dumb question, but it might get the fairy to at least speak.

Feliciano shook his head.

"No dreams or anything?"

Again, a slow head shake.

"Are you tired?"

He nodded.

"You could at least say good morning. That's what you do. I said it."

Feliciano rubbed his eyes and muttered an insipid _buongiorno._

"I'm not quite sure how these lockdowns work here. I grew up rural. Are we supposed to be inside? We should find somewhere quickly. Are you hungry, Feliciano?"

He shrugged.

"You must be hungry."

"I did go and observe the area for a while," Kiku said. "The few people I saw who were not guards were escorted by them to wherever they needed to be. I assume it will stay like this until the changeling is found."

Ludwig stood and stretched, his body popping and snapping in a multitude of places. A small bout of dizziness came over him and he leaned against the wall. His fingers trailed over tattered remains of the shirt hanging loosely on his chiseled form. "They'll take us for drunks," he said. "Sleeping in an alleyway while a dark creature is loose. I don't know how I'll explain this. Where are we, anyway?"

"Not too far from the hotel," Kiku said. "Perhaps three blocks."

"That's good. We should find ourselves an escort and get back there. We should be able to regroup and figure out what we do next."

As it turned out, Feliciano was more than reluctant to leave the sanctum of the alley. He seemed to be in a state of muted distress, an aftershock to the emotions of the night. But at last, he managed to speak a full sentence, and even more favorable, it was inflected with his tired, matutinal whine.

"I don't want to go out there when he could be hiding anywhere." He put his chin in his hands and stared at a pot of catmints.

"If he comes out, he'll be caught," Ludwig said.

"But what if he's changed?"

Ludwig sniffed the air. "He won't have. I told you the incense nullifies his magic. He can only appear as his true self."

"I wish he would just come out and show his true self to the world," the fairy said bitterly. He narrowed his eyes and sent a look unbecoming of him to the catmints.

 _I hope not,_ Ludwig thought. _Poor man's stuck somewhere with no way out._

"I suppose we could try to get back to our room," Feliciano said quietly. "I trust you, Doggie. You're not, well…" He was offering his reclaimed scissors to Ludwig. The human understood and took them in his bare hands. He swiped them across his cheeks and gave them back to the fairy.

"I'm not Alfred," Ludwig said with finality.

Feliciano rose to his feet and slung his lute around him. He nodded solemnly to Ludwig and Kiku, and they started out of the alley with the fairy clutching Ludwig's arm. His wings trailed pathetically behind him. He stole a glance back at them and raised his brows sadly.

"They've lost their color," he whispered. The wings raised ever so slightly. They only gave off a hazy glare in the sun's fresh light, nothing of their usual spectacle. The tan was much more pronounced. The wings were brown like dry, flaky earth.

"Can this be remedied?" Ludwig asked. "Will they return to the way they were?"

Feliciano bit his lip. "They should… eventually. I can't fly like this."

"You can't fly?"

"No. They feel so heavy. I—" He cut himself off. Feliciano was still clearly shaken. He, like Ludwig, had his own mental chowder that simmered in a low, frustrating heat while the pot was crowded with stinging diced onions. His spell not working, the changeling's friendly facade, being separated from his friend in a time of crisis, the fear of being pursued and abducted again… and now the world was still and broken. The air was stale and smoggy with not just his fear, but everyone's. In this part of the city, a dangerous creature was hiding. They had all prepared for this, yet no actions were taking place. It was an inhale, a synapse, an intermission. Somehow, no one had been able to corner the creature, yet they knew he was there. He was trapped by intricate patterns of salt laid on the ground and a network of lookouts and sentinels. The world was still, but the people were restless.

Ludwig took the arm Feliciano wasn't gripping and squeezed his shoulder encouragingly. "Are you at least in the mood for pasta?"

" _Sì,"_ he said. It was weighty like it was the most grateful syllable he'd ever uttered. His wings looked even plainer.

They found a pair of guards to be their escorts, and Ludwig didn't even have to explain what had happened with his shirt or why they slept in an alley. The guards were doubly sleep-deprived and paranoid and quickly imputed anything of the sort to the changeling and his arcane powers.

"No sign of him yet?" Ludwig asked.

" _Non,"_ one of them said curtly.

"When was the last time one was discovered here?" Asked Kiku.

"Years ago," the guard said. "Ten, twelve maybe? Cities like this are never places to really expect _them."_

The way he said it made the beastly contempt in Ludwig stir. He tried not to show it. Now of all times was the worst to show any kind of support for Gilbert's kind. He'd shown it enough already when he grabbed the weakened, runny-nosed Alfred by the shoulders and told him to run. He wondered if Alfred thought his mercy was strange considering Ludwig was evil in his mind. Well, he wasn't. Not really.

They passed the fountain, and Feliciano muttered something to himself about the song. His expression to the fountain was a medium between mournful and scornful. The streets were eerily silent. Only the fluttering and cooing of pigeons still disturbed the peace. Ludwig looked to where everything had happened. He'd struck up a pleasant conversation with "Alphonse" right near that little patch of garden. How long ago was that? One night or a century? So much could happen in so little time. In one night, a great amount of hope had been shattered.

In one night, he'd trespassed into dangerous territory and suffered the consequences.

The hotel was completely surrounded by guards by the time they arrived. They seemed to multiply at every turn. Those from surrounding areas had been quickly recruited for the current crisis, the escort explained. They stood rigid and serious, yet had some amount of frivolity clinging to them. One female guard yawned as they approached. Another rolled his shoulders back and readjusted his grip on his scissors. It was all going to be okay, Ludwig assured the fairy. They were entering a safe zone. Everyone in the hotel had recently been checked. The two of them were checked before they were even allowed to enter. Regulation scissors made of pure iron. _Could that be it?_ Ludwig thought. _Francis' weren't iron, were they? That's how he helped Alfred._ No matter what they were made of, Alfred had still been scared out of his wits by their appearance. So Francis had planned for that, then. And if he'd planned for it, he had assumed Alfred, as his ally, would be in the city. Francis was a traitor.

The doors were opened after their hands, wrists, cheeks and other gratuitous places were swiped, and Ludwig held open the door for the downtrodden fairy.

A trumpet sounded in the distance.

Suddenly, the guards around them were very restless. They fidgeted and stretched in their places. The two escorts began immediately running back to where they came, whipping scissors off their belts with practiced speed and precision.

Ludwig was being ushered inside, but he couldn't yet bring himself to follow Feliciano and Kiku.

The changeling had been discovered.

* * *

In the end, Alfred had to swallow his pride.

"I won! I caught it! It is mine now!"

This was not his idea. No, his idea had been much simpler. Walk out and show himself. Feign forfeit. He'd bust out of whatever imprisonment they had in store, (with help from his friends if needed,) and when the city stopped burning the accursed incense, be able to escape by changing and getting someone to part the salt. As Arthur would say, nothing lost, something gained.

But Arthur said that was ridiculous and opted for his idea instead. The idea had come when Alfred gave the others one little bit of information he'd learned during the night: Ivan was intimidating. He wished now that he'd never said it. He could still smell the spicy incense in the air before it made him start to sniffle. Double that with the fact that a demon's touch was stopping the flow of magic at the roots, and he was in his current, very embarrassing situation.

Ivan was walking through Fleur de Vie and _cradling_ him.

"I'm not an _it,"_ Alfred whined. He shivered ceaselessly. Was it really necessary to remove the waistcoat over the thin shirt just because it had a teeny tiny monogram of _FB_ on it? Was anyone going to see that when he was carried by an eight-foot demon? The sleeves of Ivan's coat kept the coldness of his arms from touching him, but his hands were like pure ice. The changeling would've opted for anything but being carried in such a way. He would've walked behind the demon. He would've ridden on his shoulders. Alfred's cheeks flushed a deep blue. Everyone was staring; he was not the handsome idol Feliciano had so lovingly painted.

"The demon has the changeling!"

This and other phrases similar were shouted amongst the guards and knights. Alfred winced when he saw their weapons. He twittered and squirmed in Ivan's frozen clutches. Ivan only looked on ahead.

"You know, I think you would make good servant, yes?"

"Who said anything about being a servant?" Of course, the plan entailed the demon king taking care of his "disposal," but it didn't need to go any further than that. Alfred would not be a servant.

"If I was really taking you away with me, you would be a perfect servant in my palace. I would finally be able to see how I look in two outfits at once. And perhaps I would be served by two of my water demon Raivis or sung to by two of my wind demon, Eduard. You would amuse me with your imitations."

Alfred scowled. If he ever were in such a situation, he'd swap with every one of those other servants so they could escape. He shivered more and more. The cold was biting, and the increasing bearers of scissors around him was putting him in a cold sweat. His thumbnail would surely cut into the skin if he dared press on his wrist.

"It is okay," Ivan said. "I will not let them touch you." He took one of his huge hands and stroked Alfred's soft white hair to console him. Wherever the pale blue fingers touched instantly stung like thousands of needles shooting into his sensitive skin. Alfred drew back his lips and chattered like a cat to a bird.

Unfortunately, Ivan didn't notice Alfred's discomfort. A knight was standing before the demon. Alfred noted that it was the same knight who was in charge of pouring the salt and looked like Francis in the moonlight. The knight motioned to a young, frightened official, and the official did the honor of blowing one very long and very loud note into his trumpet. The knight flicked his hand again and the official ceased before retreating into the shadow of an awning away from the two infamous creatures.

The knight then began to speak. His accent was tremendously thicker than Francis', and he seemed the type to take every modicum of formality and protocol very seriously. Alfred chattered at him. Ivan playfully pinched his ear. It went instantly numb.

"On official orders, we have executed the most recent plan of action stated in the Proclamation for Emergencies Involving Magical Beings and Creatures, Section 6—"

There came the sound of someone scoffing. "Anyone could infer you have executed orders, Sir Adrien. The statement of such is hardly necessary. Now, if you please, allow _moi_ to take things from here."

She hardly looked like she belonged in the scene, but the girl, in her late teens at the oldest, stepped in front of Sir Adrien and walked right up to where the demon stood carrying Alfred. Alfred looked down at her, trying to see where her scissors were, but she had none. It was this fact which caused several of the guards and the uptight knight to call warnings to her. She ignored them with a sigh and adjusted her glasses. She was quite pretty, Alfred decided. Her platinum hair was shiny and obviously well-kept. Perhaps she wasn't scared of him. Her reaction to looking him straight in the eyes was a only a mere breath of a gasp.

"Would you put him down, please?" She asked Ivan. The demon released Alfred's ear, and he reflexively grabbed it in his own hands. Their heat jumped to the ear to leave them just as freezing.

Ivan, as the plan went, wasn't ready to comply to anyone's orders. "He is my prize," he said. "He is mine. I caught him, so I get to keep him. I am taking him out of the city for you. You will not have any more trouble with him."

The girl gave a smug smile. "Sure," she said incredulously. "But put him down, first. I would like to speak with him. Then we must follow protocol, and he must be brought into a more serious interrogation before we can expel him." She snapped her fingers, and all who surrounded suddenly stepped back like the trembling trumpeter. Sir Adrien said something breathy to her in the language of Amotoile.

"You say they are clever, so I will speak to him like he is clever," she snapped back. "Put him down, demon."

"He is mine."

"Relinquish the changeling at once."

Alfred struggled in Ivan's stone-cold grip. "Lemme down," he whispered. "No, I'm serious. Maybe it's a good thing."

Slowly, Ivan brought Alfred down and set him in front of the girl. He was at his absolute least presentable self, what with his true form and sleepy eyes and occasional cough. It didn't help that he was shivering all over and his clothes were so loose they looked like bedsheets. He looked the girl up and down. She didn't have any scissors. It was smart, he thought. He wouldn't feel the need to charm her and get himself into more trouble, though maybe he'd end up busting out of some fancy incarceration after all. It couldn't be that hard, right? He had Ivan as backup, and that dude could probably freeze all the guards in one snap of the fingers. Way OP for a sidekick, but totally useful.

The girl held out her gloved hand. "Lady Lucille, head of magical surveillance, Amotoile division. I was called here last night," she said. "Come on, shake. You do not have to _faire la bise,_ but some greeting is good."

This was strange. Why was she being so friendly? Didn't she think he was terrifying? She must have been very well-trained to deal with whatever fears he seemed to emanate to most people. Alfred cautiously took her hand and shook and introduced himself, (albeit as Alphonse.) Her hands were warm through the gloves.

"Alphonse, is it? I take it that's not your real name. You use a pseudonym."

"It is," he said. The guards were restless around the exchange.

"I will hold them back," Lucille said. "I only want to know a few things. What is your real name, and why are you in the city? I know you just fibbed to me."

"Alfred," he said. "That's my real name."

"No, that can't be it."

"Well, I did fib the first time. That's my real name. Alfred."

"How can you have such an unremarkable name? Surely you've been swapped before? Or was that the name of your target?"

In all honesty, someone really had named him Alfred. It was his mother, er, whoever found him as an infant once he'd calmed down a bit and could control his magic better. Whoever it was, she was changeling, and she called him that. That was his name. She abandoned him, but he kept calling himself Alfred. He told Matthew and Dinsmoor his name was Alfred. Why was that hard to understand? It wasn't unusual for an extraordinary creature to have an ordinary name.

"It's my name," he said again. "It's my real name."

Lucille knit her brow. "Moving on," she said. "Why are you in this city?"

That was the question he hesitated to answer. She looked at him with an unwavering poker face. She only expected one answer. _Forfeit._

Lying didn't feel right. He never wanted to swap with anyone here. He was on a mission with Francis and Arthur. But he couldn't mention those two, or they'd get in trouble. Francis especially. What was he to say? The more he stood there, the more her glare bored into him.

She flashed a saccharine smile. "How about this? Who let you in?"

"I beguiled someone," he managed to say. That was believable. It also happened to be what she wanted to hear.

"That sprite from the Isle of Rain?"

"Yes. Him." From here it was easy. "I—" He had to make himself look a little hesitant and anxious.

"Tell me." She looked cross. She furtively patted a pocket in her skirt that looked heavy. What was in there? Oh no.

"I found him coming this way. He was an easy target. He got me past the salt ring."

"And why did you need to get into the city? That was my earlier question."

Oh, this was ridiculous. Something in Alfred stirred, then snapped. "Can't a dude just want to be in a city to admire it? You know, not all of us lust for gold or happiness or whatever. I'm a perfectly happy guy on my own. Sure, I can be mischievous sometimes, but not evil. You guys really need to stop with the nonsense, okay? I don't eat children. I don't want to steal them. I'm just here on vacation and your friggin' incense and this demon has to ruin it for me."

She looked at him for a few seconds utterly bewildered, but trust was clearly still an issue. He was supposed to have said that he did in fact intend to do evil. Alfred stepped back. He could feel her pulling the blades out of her skirt pocket. His ears twitched at the soft sound of metal rubbing against the cloth. A bubble of trepidation formed in his chest and rose in his throat. He was supposed to be strong here. What was happening?

"I do not appreciate you scaring my little changeling," Ivan said. Alfred was relieved to be cold again. The temperature in the air dropped swiftly. The morning sun was eaten up by a wintry cloud. He had to hand it to the demon. Ivan could be intimidating if he wanted to. The circle around them was stretching and widening. Though some only brought their weapons forth into full view.

 _Alfred._

The called one stiffened. That was Arthur's voice, but where was he? It sounded echoed with a bit of reverb. His super-observant eyes scanned the area immediately. His ears flicked. Arthur had said he would stay in the area in case they wouldn't let Ivan pass through peacefully with his catch to the city's edge. Where was he hiding, though? Why wasn't anyone else reacting? Was he invisible?

 _I'm not invisible. I'm up on the rooftop. Don't you dare look; no one notices me right now because of you. I'm using a short-range telepathy spell._

 _Wait, can you hear my thoughts?_

 _Perfectly. But that's not important. Look, there isn't much time. We could've honestly snuck you out of here, but the city wouldn't know you were gone. They need to see you leaving._

 _You said this already._

 _They really distrust you right now. I'll spare you the details, but if Ivan picks you up again, they'll attack. The really well-trained ones can fight through their fear._

No no nononono. Ivan was trying to pick him up right now. He swatted at the freezing hands. Ivan only looked confused. In front of him was Lucille holding the scissors. If he looked at her, he'd panic and use his charm. She'd fall asleep and doom him further. If he said what she wanted to hear, that he was in the city for crime and swapping, she'd be satisfied, but Sir Adrien would execute protocol and apprehend him forcefully. The fearful bubble kept rising. The circle of guards seemed to contract a little bit. The air grew colder.

He formed a lucid thought. _Hello? You there? Gonna help me or what?_

 _I'm going invisible. Be down in a sec._

Alfred didn't have a "sec." He was surprised that was even in Arthur's vocabulary.

Lucille spoke to him. "This can all be resolved, 'Alfred.' You just have to tell me the real reason why you're here. I don't like using these. I know how much they scare you. But if you keep showing those fangs and backing away from me, I might have to go old-school like these kiddies."

Ivan kept holding out his hands and stooping. "I will take you out of the city. Just let me carry you. What are you doing, little one?"

His eyes darted around again. There was nowhere to run this time. Beyond the circle of guards was a circle of salt. He was truly trapped. The only way out was up, and no matter how hard he concentrated, his arms wouldn't stretch and change into wings.

" _How long have you been housing this blasted_ imp _and giving it food?"_

The voice of memory was haunting. Alfred backed up even further. His heart sped. Still he couldn't transform. He caught every sparkling glint of iron in the sunlight. This was the big showdown. Those were the heroes; he was the monster, the baby in Arthur's book with the face of a man. The irony was a freezing hand clenched around his heart. It was absurd to show weakness. He would bust out of their silly little imprisonment! He was a changeling, and changelings could outwit anyone! But seeing them so angry like this and feeling their contempt upon his shoulders seemed to drain his strength right on the spot.

The bubble burst. Alfred started twittering. No, was it really twittering? It certainly wasn't the sound an eagle would make. He turned to the sky, and from his throat issued a haunting, eerie, fluttery call. It shivered and wavered like a sheet in open air or ripples on a lake. It was a lake bird. The cry of the loon.

The air was still for a second. There was hesitation among the gathered, as if his hopeless crooning was some kind of esoteric spell he was getting ready to unleash. Dang, this was embarrassing. The last time he'd done the loon call, he was deep in Sunset Country separated from Matthew. It was a homing call for one to find the other in a time of crisis. Could Matthew hear him from Francis' chateau? Perhaps another miracle would bring him just within reach and ready to assist.

There came a soft voice from above. "Ah, I understand." Alfred peered up at Ivan. Soft light was bathing his hands and horns. The clouds grew thicker and darker. The changeling hugged himself. The air was growing frigid.

In his distraction, Lucille had grabbed his wrist. He looked just in time to see her hovering the closed blades above. She seemed the most hesitant of anyone. Clearly she did not actually intend to burn him. She was just trying to scare him. Her threat was enough. In a flash, Alfred was so terrified that his reflexes caused him to thrust his palm to the girl's forehead and shriek the sleeping charm. It was ultimately ineffective with his nullified magic, but it caught the attention of the circle. They were finished with waiting and tarrying. Now was the time to strike.

"No!" Alfred cried.

"Do not worry," Ivan said. "There is new plan. We have to run."

"We can't run!" They couldn't run. The guards were running straight toward them. Alfred found himself chattering away at them, clicking through his teeth. He backed up to the center of the circle where Ivan stood, but Ivan was only holding his hands up instead of reaching down to reclaim his winnings.

Suddenly, the world was a blur. All was white and terribly cold. Ivan had created a miniature blizzard just like the one back in the woods when Alfred became Feliciano. Alfred went back to hugging himself. His claw-like nails dug into the shirt, and he stuttered with cold. Crystals of snow stung him in the face. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. He was going to freeze to death.

"What are you doing just standing there? Come on!" It was Arthur. A small, nimble hand caught Alfred's wrist and started pulling. This time, he would go willingly. He'd had about enough of this city. Feliciano's mind was in chains, but unfortunately, (and terribly unfortunate in Alfred's mind,) the Allegrian would have to wait for his hero.

The snowstorm was only about as wide as the little salt ring. The harsh winds blew the salt this way and that. Alfred quickly weaved through the surprised to find himself in a much warmer environment. Arthur, invisible, released his wrist and ran on ahead. Soon after, Ivan emerged from his craft. The storm abated. The guards were not frozen statues, but rather their feet were now encased in ice and stuck to the ground. They could not pursue. Ivan strode over to Alfred.

"Can I at least ride on your shoulders?"

"If you would like."

Ivan had to hold Alfred's legs, and even though he had pants, it was still bitter-cold torture.

The three of them came across a salt barrier not long after. From out of nowhere a strong wind stirred up and blew the salt up into the air and all over the street in powerless granules.

"Easily managed," came Arthur's cocky lilt.

"You could do that the whole time? Why'd we waste twenty minutes parting the big ring so carefully? Not cool!"

"That would be _noticeable,"_ Arthur enunciated clearly. "How would I put the salt back?"

"An extra twenty minutes. Maybe my powers wouldn't be gone," Alfred grumbled.

When they encountered more guards, Ivan froze them to the ground or Arthur threw them out of the way with an unseeable flourish of his hand and a faint green veil. Alfred felt like the powerless comic relief character. His companions had cool powers, but he did too! And he wasn't allowed to use them! He, in his mind the most powerful of the Mercs, was thrown from his throne and nullified. The embarrassment was getting unbearable. They were nearly at the edge of the city, and the only one who really wanted to be a hero hadn't done a single heroic thing.

"You stop right there!"

That voice was familiar. But why did it sound so loud and vexed?

There came the sound of heavy hoofbeats. Thundering toward them on a wide street was Matthew. Yao sat on his back with his arms wrapped around the Homoalces' human middle. Both were peeved. Matthew slowed to a trot. He crossed his arms and glared at Alfred with a burning mixture of relief and contempt. A deep rumble of warning resonated in his chest and throat when he breathed. Excepting the antlers and ears, he didn't look too different from Francis the night before.

Despite this, Alfred grinned like he had been given a gift. "Mattie! Did you hear my loon call?"

Matthew tucked his hair behind his ears. "Loon call?" he said. He looked pensive for a second before narrowing his eyes. "No, I did not hear your _loon call._ This is hardly a time for jokes. Yao and I were alone last night. You didn't come back, and I was scared half to death when Francis told me how much danger you were in. I couldn't take it anymore this morning. I had to take the risk and come here into this city. You're an absolute _idiot,_ Alfred. You're rash beyond belief! Why didn't you listen? Why can't you just tone down your stiff-necked attitude for one day and actually think logically? Why do you have to be so headstrong and, and so, don't make fun of me when I say this, but you're _bullheaded!_ What is with you!?"

"Mattie, stop!" Alfred retorted. "What's gotten into _you?_ You were fine with me going yesterday. And I already got this spiel from Francis, so—"

"Well, now you're getting it from me! _I_ didn't know about the incense! Alfred! _Listen to me!"_ He grit his teeth and swung his antlers dangerously.

"I agree completely that you should both listen to each other. However, could you perhaps save any tirades for when we are out of the city?" Arthur spoke up in a voice weighing with weakness.

Matthew considered this, but without warning, in the culmination of his ire, he charged at a nearby shop window. His antlers shattered the glass and tossed new wine bottles right out of the display and into the street. Red wine flowed out onto the ground. It seeped between the paved stones, soaking them. Matthew lifted a hoof out of where it flowed. He dug at the pavement, the rumble in his throat becoming louder. His huge body tensed. The other Mercs stepped back at his fury. Only after a whisper of comfort from Yao in his ear did Matthew turn and shake his head. Once again, his lilac eyes were more human than beast.

"I apologize," Matthew grunted. He adjusted the pince-nez perching precariously on his nose before trotting in the opposite direction.

"Francis is at the ring. There aren't so many guards now. He's waiting for you," Yao said.

No one else spoke, lest they further anger the bull.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Lucille is Monaco.  
**

 **Angry Mattie. Had to put him in there. Hehe.**


	30. All for Naught

By afternoon, Amotoile's capital city once again bustled and pulsed with activity, albeit with a bit of caution and concern.

It was announced in an official statement that the changeling had been cornered, but due to some unforeseen magical circumstances, the creature was not apprehended. Other guards reported seeing the snow demon carrying the changeling toward the western border of the city, and two hours after the incident, a clean hole was found in the salt ring on that side. A broken storefront window had been discovered, but the changeling was proclaimed to have left the city of the demon's will, and public safety was reassured.

Ludwig listened as Feliciano finished another verse. He held his hands tightly around a guard's ankles, and as he sang, the ice sweated and rippled and changed into liquid water. It splashed around the now-free official, who'd been sitting down with his feet stuck in the uncomfortable position since morning. He stood up and thanked the fairy for the miracle before slowly and awkwardly reporting to the medics.

Nearly all of them were free now. Ice picks had been used early on, but the fact that a good-natured being of magic stayed within the city was quickly taken note of, and Feliciano was summoned at once. He was beginning to look more like himself. He smiled more, and his wings didn't look so dull. He still wasn't talking as much as he usually did, but Ludwig assumed that would be remedied once Feliciano saw the city really was safe again.

When he finished melting all the ice, Feliciano was thanked first by Sir Adrien, who was in charge of all changeling-related incidents and was a bit flustered that he'd failed to capture the creature, and then by Lady Lucille, whose appearance alone brightened the fairy's smile and wings even more.

"Thank you so much for freeing us," she said. "I heard you gave a performance last night, but I was not expecting your voice to work such wonders."

Feliciano went red. "Aw, it's really nothing. I've been singing magic spells since I was little. I'm a fairy; I'm supposed to do magic. Do you like pasta? I know how to make pasta, and it's really good. Maybe you'd like to try a little bit? I think the hotel has a public kitchen."

"Oh, really? That sounds interesting. You know, I can't really let my guard down with all the other dark threats around Amotoile, but perhaps a little break wouldn't hurt. I haven't really been that close to a changeling's true form in a long time. And he was so disrespectful. He didn't even tell me his real name. What nerve!"

And the magic was lost. Feliciano's smile vanished. He sheepishly averted his gaze. "Y-yeah," he said. "I haven't been so close to one in a while either… I don't think anyway. I'm staying over near the fountain."

"That's a bit of a walk from here. I suppose I could come over when I'm done finalizing the reports."

Just as fast, he bounced back. " _Veh?_ You would? _Che bella,_ eh, _perfetto!_ That's it. I'll wait for you and make pasta. A-and maybe I could take you on a little stroll around the city later. " He cracked a small smile again and bent down to kiss her on the cheeks. His wings fluttered a little, and his face flushed pink. The strange curl bounced.

"He actually caught a fish," Ludwig muttered.

"She is not interested in him," Kiku said. "She is merely stressed and wishes for an activity to ease her turbulent thoughts."

"Well, we should let him have his fun. She managed to lift him out of his sulk."

Feliciano continued to stare at Lucille as she questioned some other freshly-thawed guards. Ludwig went over and brought him out of his trance. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah," the fairy said shyly. "I don't feel so scared anymore. All these people really care about safety. I'm glad I could help them out of a bind. They were so brave to stand up to the changeling _and_ that demon."

"Your wings are a bit shinier."

Feliciano blushed. He lifted and fluttered his wings. "They don't feel strong enough to fly yet, but maybe soon."

"Let's head back, then. You have to make pasta, and I was thinking of writing a letter to my brother. I haven't spoken to him in a while. He'll want to know of our adventures."

"That sounds wonderful! Could I write something in it, too? Or maybe I could sign it. Just a little postscript that tells Gilbert how awesome he is. Let me sign it, Doggie! I'll sign for Kiku, too. Could I sign for you, Kiku?"

"Maybe. You do not know how my name would be written in my language, but then again, neither do I."

"I'll just sound it out. Come on, let's get back. You know, I should also write a letter to Lovi. I don't know if he's back in Allegria yet, but he should know I'm okay."

Ludwig cracked a smile. "Better," he remarked, only loud enough so he could hear it.

When they got back, Feliciano washed up before departing to the kitchen, and Ludwig immediately wrote his letter to Gilbert:

 _Dear Brother,_

 _It has been some time since we last spoke, and I do hope you have not gotten yourself into any trouble since last time. At least you haven't been in the city of Fleur de Vie. They use Enthüllung here to weed out dark fairies, and last night I witnessed the fate of an individual who was affected. He escaped, but this is not the last time I mention him._

 _Since I last saw you, we have traveled to Amotoile's capital, and Feliciano and I have become aware of an opposition to our cause. As farfetched as it sounds, someone learned we are trying to find Feliciano's amulet, and this someone wrote a letter summoning mercenaries to stop us. We have been pursued by these mercenaries for many days now. They have been nothing but a nuisance. One night, a changeling with them, the same one mentioned above, assumed Feliciano's form and tried to steal the wand. They also have with them a fairy from the Isle of Rain, at least one human, a snow demon, and a hoofed creature who supposedly is half human. I do not jest when I write this, brother._

 _As far as I know from Feliciano, who was tempted by these mercenaries to stop working with me, the letter stated that you are a dark wizard, I, the dog-man, am your brother, and the writer is cursed so he cannot write your name without pain. Do you have any history with someone who may want to write this? According to Feliciano, the letter had a smudged signature._

 _We have not managed to locate the amulet yet, but we hope to find it soon enough. Feliciano tried using a summoning spell in a place that is dear to him, but it did not produce favorable results. If these mercenaries were out of our way, perhaps we could search faster and not worry about them lurking and watching us._

 _I hope to speak with you again soon. Perhaps if your allergies don't hinder you, you could visit us, but please, don't get yourself into any trouble._

 _Ludwig_

He wrote it in such a way that Feliciano would have no need of suspicion when he read and signed it. Ludwig put his quill down and read it over. He hoped Gilbert would understand the last line. The wizard was not to show his face in this city lest he end up like poor Alfred. Ludwig would need an enchanted messenger bird. He'd seen a few flying around. Amotoile was quite ignorant of magic, but they did have small white doves that carried letters and cooed when the messages were delivered.

When he was satisfied, he went to find Feliciano. The kitchen was a flurry of activity, but none seemed so enthusiastic as the winged one. It was not hard to find him; he was softly singing to himself and throwing a yellow ball of dough between his hands like a baseball. If there was anything to bring Feliciano happiness, it was being in his element.

" _Che bello bello bello, che bello bello bello~"_

The hands that played the lute were now kneading the dough on the table and generously dusting it with flour. White spots dotted his hair and face. His fingers were a sticky mess crusted with dried scales of dough. Feliciano rinsed and dried them before continuing to knead until the dough was soft and smooth. He worked diligently to roll it out flat and cut it into thin strips. These he doused with even more flour before stretching them and laying them aside for boiling.

When Feliciano was finished cutting the pasta, Ludwig found himself stirring the pot while the fairy added them to the boiling water. It was to keep them from sticking together, Feli said.

"Did you sing that song you know to help the water boil faster?"

"It's not a good spell for thick pasta. If the water boils too much, the flour bubbles up and spills. You should stir slower. See, it's foaming."

Ludwig slowed down and stirred at a steady, calculated pace. Each movement of the arm and angle of the spoon was the same. He caught Feliciano looking at him oddly. The Allegrian's style of cooking was much more casual and artistic, while Ludwig measured every detail with precision. Perhaps it was just because Ludwig had to cook so often to satisfy Gilbert. Everything had to be precise every time. The artistry had nulled down into a mundane science.

"You haven't made pasta before, have you?" The fairy said.

"No, I am the cook back at my house, but I haven't made this before. It's so simple. Just flour and eggs."

Feli cracked a smile. "And olive oil."

For the pasta, Feliciano managed to whip up a hearty bolognese, and even more surprising to Ludwig was that beforehand, he'd created a nice, colorful bruschetta. On their way back, he'd picked out a bottle of wine to share with his guest. Allegrian-made, of course. (There was magic in the grapes, he said.) Then, for no apparent reason other than to impress the object of his attraction, he decided to host his guest in the hotel's ballroom. It was a quaint setting with candles on the table. Ludwig toyed with telling Feliciano that Lucille was obviously not interested in this kind of meeting, but he had already made the arrangements and was subtly adamant in keeping them.

When they were waiting for Lucille to arrive, Feliciano gazed across the room dreamily. "The sunset will come through that window," he said. "Won't that be beautiful?"

" _Ja, ja,"_ Ludwig replied.

"Did I tell you I was flying and ran into the wall in here last night? That's a story."

"Why were you flying indoors?"

"In Volkerburg, I had to clean up high because I had wings. I just wanted to reminisce a little bit. And just like that I smacked into the wall! I didn't get hurt too bad, but it surprised me!" He then sighed and frowned. His wings drooped; their color fluctuated. "It didn't show itself. I couldn't feel its presence resonating with the song. The spell didn't work."

"We'll find it," Ludwig said. "We didn't look in the right place."

"But where else would it be? I always loved painting by that fountain. It was my favorite place in the world when I was little. I tried every specific word in my song, and nothing revealed itself. Nothing was hidden or lost."

"You must have more than one place that is special to you. Your grandfather made it a challenge. He gave you abstract clues."

"You don't think the amulet could be hidden in Allegria, do you? All the way back home? We would have to travel so far to get there. If we weren't such good friends, I would tell you to meet me back here when I've gone and found it. I can fly and travel much quicker. You can't."

"Would he hide it in Allegria? Would it be safe there? I always saw the hiding place as being very secret so no one could find it except you. After all, you're the only one he told about it."

"Grandpa did say I'd know when I found it."

"I think it would be good to assume that the abstract clues are just as valuable as the concrete ones," Kiku said. "One clue was finding magic."

" _Sì."_

"Then as inconvenient as it is," he continued, "there is a chance that the amulet is hidden in Allegria, a country which is full of magic."

"True," Feliciano said. "Allegria is very magical, and I suppose my home is very special to me. But it's such a big place and so far away. I would want to be sure that's where it is before we waste any time."

He didn't add it on, but Ludwig was sure Feliciano was thinking about another reason to be certain: he didn't want to be followed or tricked anymore. Ludwig imagined the conversation the mercenaries must be having at the moment. They were probably wondering where the dog-man and noble fairy were itching to search next. That was, of course, if they were not recovering from the very stressful night. When Gilbert had been affected by the incense, Ludwig remembered him remaining weak for an entire day and coughing for days after. He never once complained about it, but it was all a prideful charade.

"It is not near the fountain," Ludwig said. "If we rule out Allegria for the present, where else would it be? Could it still be in this city somewhere, or should we search another part of Amotoile? Did you travel to other countries as a child and have good experiences? What about Volkerburg?"

"I studied music in Volkerburg, and that was only after Grandpa died. He wouldn't have known I was going to study there. Where would he have hidden it when I was small? Hmm… desire what my heart desires… have strength in what I believe in… find magic… follow my heart… in a special place where I do what I love. Where could it be?"

"Allegria," Ludwig said.

"Are you really sure?"

"You're always saying you want us to go to Allegria with you. You desire to be in your home where your heart is. A bit abstract, but it fits."

"I believe in magic," Feliciano said. "I believe in it and want it and find my strength in it…" Suddenly, he gasped. "I _studied_ music in Volkerburg, but that's not where I learned to sing! I learned to sing right at home in Allegria! Right in Roma Villa! It could be hidden in the villa somewhere right under my nose! Just thinking about home makes me feel magical!"

"You never searched in your own house?" Kiku asked.

"I did, but I never knew exactly what the treasure was. I may have seen it and glanced right over it. Now I may be sure of it. After all, the wand was stolen, and the wand might have been a vital clue. I'm Roma's heir. If he wanted me to have something, he might've hidden it away right in the villa. Maybe there's a secret door and I need the wand to open it. I've heard of those. Maybe I have to sing to open it, and it will only open with my voice. Maybe only I can see it! Maybe I have to say what I believe and what I desire. I desire the amulet. I wish for the _sogno_. It _is_ a wishing amulet, you know. I just wish I could find it!" He grabbed his head in feverish excitement.

"Slow down," Ludwig said. "This means we have to go to Allegria, which as you said before, is very far from here. Not only that, but we have to throw the mercenaries off our trail."

"We can think about it in the morning. It'll settle itself." The fairy beamed. His wings glittered. He lifted them and hovered a few inches. He whispered with disbelief, "I can fly again."

"What are you so excited about?" It was Lucille, who had just entered the ballroom.

Feliciano flushed pink, and so did the tips of his wings. "I think I know where the treasure is! The treasure we've been looking for!"

"You're looking for a treasure?" She asked, intrigued. "Do tell."

* * *

Hours later, after supper was finished, (and Feliciano had thrice tried and failed to beat Lucille at poker for a kiss, and twice more to escort her home,) the fairy returned to his room disappointed, but with the flame from earlier not yet quenched. Something about searching in Allegria just felt right inside. It was as if all the previous searching was for naught. He desired to make pretty paintings at the fountain, but his heart's desire for his home, his wonderful, magical home, far surpassed that petty want.

And to have strength in what he believed in. Roma told him he had to believe in magic. Feliciano believed that his home was really the most magical place in the world. It was where he learned to sing and make magic happen with his voice. He learned to cook there and paint and sleep and dream. Yes, it had to be there. Where else could it be? Where else than in a land of magic where Roma had commanded the winds and put magic in grapes to make the most delicious enchanted wine?

Later on, Feliciano stood and anxiously twirled his hair between his fingers. He looked out on the city illuminated by the moon. This was a good night. No changelings were out to get him this time. At least, he was pretty sure. Just one night ago, he had been down in those streets looking for Doggie. It was cold down there. He sniffed and smelled the spicy scent of the incense. Here, he was safe. In Allegria, he would be safer. The magical wards were a lot more reliable and would stop a changeling no matter whom he beguiled or disguised himself as.

Even if the amulet wasn't in Allegria, Feliciano would happily take a much-needed vacation at home.

* * *

Arthur, Yao, and Ivan sat in the drawing room. Each of the former two had a hot bowl of the onion soup Francis angrily threw together earlier perched in his lap, and each remarked how even though Francis had cooked with such fury, he still created a culinary masterpiece. Ivan preferred his soup cold, and he merely dipped a finger in a third bowl to chill it to his own standard of perfection.

Francis himself was absent. It was late afternoon, and the knight was still out on a walk with Matthew. If the reason for their walk was to be presumed, they were both emptying all the contempt, no, " _annoyance"_ each felt for a certain changeling at the moment. No one wanted to cross them, and to Arthur, the chateau was much more peaceful without them.

Arthur was in fact not livid with Alfred as Francis and Matthew were. It was not rational to condemn his terminally reckless companion when he, the logical one, was to blame for supporting him. Arthur was angry with himself for allowing it to happen. He could've made at least some effort to convince Alfred it wasn't a good idea. He could've consulted Francis about the incense. He could've just told Francis Alfred wanted to sneak away, and perhaps Francis would've dealt with him before anything bad happened. Oh, but the look on Francis' face when he found Arthur bruised and with that bite and bump on his head. A powerless human standing over a fairy, a magical being. And this was not the first time, but the second! Arthur's gut twisted in embarrassment. A tapestry wove itself in his imagination. A bored-looking royal advisor stood next to a bored-looking fairy queen. In her manicured hands was a hand mirror reflecting his face.

" _By rum, he's let a changeling into the city quite willingly, and look how even the humans frown upon him,"_ the advisor said.

" _Enough about him,"_ said the queen, " _his predictable nature ever so bores me. When he returns to the Isle, bring him to me, and I shall turn him into a crow like I should've ages ago. If darkness is his element, so be it."_

Arthur imagined himself taking an iron knife and slashing the tapestry in two. " _Piss off!"_

Yao broke the tension in the air. "Aiyah," he sighed. "I did not imagine this mission would take so long."

"It is difficult," said Ivan, "but I am enjoying it."

"I have just decided. I now require interest from the writer for all the extra time it takes from here," Yao announced.

"Is there any need for interest?" Arthur yawned. "I'd like to see you be utterly outlandish with your initial request. Tell the tosser you want a carriage and horses made of diamonds, and if he refuses, tell him it's downright reasonable."

"What will you ask for?" Ivan asked.

"A bloody castle."

"Oh, I would like a castle too," Yao said. "I must write this down and calculate how much it will cost to build. I would like it to be near a river but in the proximity of mountains. Dragons like both of those things. Of course, I will need the courtyard to direct all the dragons' positive energy close around the center, and the negative—"

"It was a joke, Yao. A response on the spur of the moment," Arthur said. He furrowed his brow. "But now that you mention it, I think that would be reasonable to ask for after this mess. A castle. I'd make it the grandest thing anyone has ever seen. Gilded towers, a moat with a giant squid in it, a unicorn pasture. I'd dress in silk robes and, I don't know, call myself King Arthur the Great or something. King Arthur the Magical. I'd be both king and royal magician. I wouldn't need any servants. I'd just magick everything to clean itself. I don't like servants, anyway."

"That would make some people more angry with you," Ivan said.

"It's a fantasy, Ivan. Don't you ever dream?"

"You're in a mood," said Yao.

"We're all in a mood," Arthur retorted.

"You are embarrassed," said Ivan. "I can see it."

Heat flowed into his cheeks. Arthur changed the subject. "Has anyone seen Alfred at all since we returned? Has he really been in his room the whole time? He hasn't even come out for soup."

"He must be sleeping," said Yao. "I gave him some tea for his cough and chills."

"Someone should check on him."

"You should check on him," said Ivan. "You want to get away from us so we do not embarrass you more. He is relatable, and—"

"That is quite enough," Arthur bit. He set down his empty bowl and strode out of the drawing room. Once in the kitchen, he bowled up some soup for Alfred and went briskly to his bedroom on the first floor. He knocked and called first, and when there was no reply, he slowly turned the handle and poked his head in.

"Are you all right, Alfred? There is soup, you know. I brought you some."

From somewhere deep within a white, puffy mountain of blankets and sheets on the bed, there came a groan. Arthur couldn't tell whether the sound was from Alfred's mouth or his stomach.

"Good. You're still alive," Arthur remarked. He strode over and set the soup on the bedside table next to Alfred's glasses. "It's hot. Francis made it. He's still gone with Matthew. Nothing of interest has happened."

The mountain of bedspread wiggled. Its round shape flattened. A hand emerged and pulled the duvet down to reveal Alfred's sleepy face. Arthur almost didn't recognize it. It was full and round with no cheekbones in sight. His pointed ears were normal-sized. The disheveled hair falling across his forehead was the color of golden wheat.

"You can transform again, I see."

"Yeah," Alfred yawned. "Did that hours ago. As soon as we got here, I could feel my powers coming back. It was like being an icicle and becoming a toasty lava rock. I'll never complain about my weight again." He cracked his neck and pulled himself into a sitting position. His deep eyes glittered when he saw the soup. Arthur offered him the wide-billed spoon, but Alfred simply took the bowl and drank, emptying the bowl in seconds. He wiped his lips with his hand. "What time is it now?"

"Nearly five," Arthur said. "You were quiet in here for quite some time. Were you sleeping?"

"On and off," Alfred admitted. He coughed. "Mostly I just didn't wanna talk to anyone. Except maybe Mattie. I think there's a limit to how long he can stay mad at me. Either that or he's always mad and I'm terrible at reading the atmosphere."

"Understandable."

"So… are you here to rant to me?"

"No. I think you've been shamed enough. You're too stubborn to listen anyway."

"Stubbornness doesn't matter if I'm right."

Arthur scoffed. "You're right? What do you mean you're right? You deny making such a mess of things with your antics?"

"I got Ludwig to admit there's a spell on Feliciano."

"You already assumed that. You went into the city to find out how to break the spell. All you did was reaffirm the assumption."

" _Confirm_ the assumption," Alfred corrected.

"But you don't know how to break the spell, so it was all for naught, wasn't it? Feliciano didn't summon the amulet, and look where your disobedience brought you. You were wrong."

"Shut up, Artie," Alfred said annoyedly.

Arthur tightened his lips.

"Look," the changeling continued. "If you don't wanna be friendly, leave. It's why I'm in here, anyway. I don't know how long Francis can hold a grudge, and I don't wanna make an enemy out of you, too. You've been my friend on this adventure. You know what 'sunny weather' is. I'm sorry you were attacked in Lafée because of me, but I'm not sorry for existing and just wanting to help." He hardened his gaze and stared Arthur straight in the eyes. Through the terrifying depth, Arthur could almost see something else. Tangible sincerity. Truth.

He was being sincere. Arthur was amazed. Gradually, his intense expression softened. There was a glimmer of a smile. He took the chair near the bed and sat down. _And I thought the changeling in Lafée was a cold-blooded monster after my wealth,_ he thought.

"I'm not angry with you," Arthur said.

"Really?"

"I never was. It takes someone special for me to be truly angry. My brothers, for instance."

"Peter?"

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "There is no one called Peter."

"Is Peter a changeling, too?"

"No, Peter is not a changeling. Peter is no one. It is a nonsense name I said when I was drunk."

"Well, you seem awfully interested in forcing that. Did he try to swap with you? Did he change into you and act silly around town? Or is he a more mischievous changeling and spread rumors about you? Did he break into your house? Steal your stuff? Skim your milk? 'Sometime make the drink to have no barm? Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? Called Peter Changeling, do you speak of he, who frights the maidens of the villagery?'"

Arthur stiffened. "Where did you hear that? Those rhymes!"

He shrugged. "I was born knowing a lot of weird poems."

"Well, that would explain a lot. And Peter. Is. No one."

" _Peter is no one,"_ Alfred mimicked. He grinned impishly at his companion.

Arthur coughed. " _Thirteen."_

"That's ageist, milord. I'm offended."

"No, you're not. You're smiling. Smiling like the thirteen year-old _boy_ you really are."

"And you're frowning like an old man."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You can grow miraculously quick, but you can't mature quick, too?"

"I'm plenty mature for my age," Alfred replied. "I'll show you how mature I can be."

"We'll see about that," said Arthur.

"Can I have some more soup?"

"Maturity starts with manners."

Alfred shifted his voice. " _It is my great honor to make a request, that which is for you to bestow on me a second most nourishing receptacle of the finest soup made by the hands of he who wishes to spite me, Sir Francis. I do sincerely hope that you will honor my request and fulfill my wishes promptly—"_

"Just say, 'May I please have more soup, milord.'"

" _May I please—"_

"In your _own_ voice. And stop thinking that mine is royalty-free."

"Can I have more soup please, Artie?"

"You're a disgrace," Arthur sighed as he picked up the soup bowl. "Thirteen? You may as well go to finishing school. They can teach you manners."

"Did you go to finishing school?"

Arthur didn't answer. No, he certainly did not go to finishing school, and the joke would take too long to explain and only prompt wisecracks from the changeling. "Since you at least said _please,_ I'll bring you another bowl. Would you like some more tea for your throat?"

"That'd be great. Thanks, milord."

Arthur smiled faintly as he opened the door. "You're welcome, shadowborn."

In the kitchen, the fairy lord looked quizzically at his reflection in the soup. "Am I a changeling's… friend?"


	31. Updating Your Look

It was the first time in Arthur's life when he was awake after midnight worrying about such a thing as trousers.

In his left arm, he carried two pairs of trousers. One was a pair of his own, a simple dark pair for wearing over boots. The other was one of Francis', though Arthur was sure it wouldn't make much difference for length. He and Francis were practically the same height.

But then if both pairs proved to be too long or too short, there would be a dilemma. Such things could be impossible to predict, and even moreso with this particular situation. Suppose the trousers were not too long or too short, but too tight around the waist. Arthur knew his would fit slim. Or consider that they were too tight even around the thighs and calves. Too loose, so as to sag down? That was a most gruesome thought. Would a belt help, or would it just look silly?

"Save trousers for the morning," Arthur told himself. Resting on the two pairs was the freshly-cleaned red robe.

But what if that was too short or too long?

Arthur let out an enormous yawn. He ran his hand along the railing and finished descending the stairs. Despite worries, his mind was fogging up. The last few hours had been spent with arduous concentration. Measuring, mixing, summoning ingredients from his secret stores, adding them at just the right time, draining his own magical energy into the brew to give it strength… he put a hand on his rumbling stomach and imagined this was the way Alfred felt as a creature constantly expending such power.

In Arthur's vest pocket was the product: a tiny vial containing a thick substance that glowed bright indigo in the dark. A shiver ran down his spine. With what mental power he had, he ran through the recipe again. It was his first time going through with making a cross-species potion. At fifteen, he almost made one to turn him into a dragon, but realized before even beginning that a dragon was too big to make an antidote without help. He would have to reveal to someone else he was practicing banned magic. Then, at seventeen, he wanted to make one to become a cat, but embarrassingly enough, was too scared of its effects and abandoned the project.

Arthur was older now, and as such, wiser. This potion could not fail, he assured himself. Arthur had read the footnotes this time and took them into consideration. For Matthew, the transformation would be painless with the numbing agent. For such a drastic change, it was foolish not to add it. Perhaps changing would feel similar to Alfred's magic. He didn't look pained during his transformations. Maybe if Arthur had added just a mite of changeling blood to the mixture, the effects would become even smoother. But no, that wasn't in the recipe. Even among the dark magicians who wrote the books, changelings were unpredictable sources of magic.

Matthew was sleeping when he reached the stable. One stall had been completely mauled over, and new straw covered its entire floor to make a comfortable bedding for one so large as the Homoalces. He looked peaceful in his sleep with his legs sprawled lazily about and his head tucked onto his shoulder. He was unmoving and still gave off the aura of majesty which Arthur respected.

"Matthew," Arthur whispered. "Unseen, it's me. Wake up." Matthew's ear flicked, but he didn't stir. Cautiously, the fairy approached. He didn't want to startle the other and get kicked. Arthur reached out and very carefully touched Matthew's shoulder. "Wake up."

Matthew lifted his head. He brushed hair out of his eyes and blinked. He wasn't wearing his pince-nez, and he squinted in the direction of his late-night visitor. "Who's there? Al? I can't see in this light."

"It's me, Lord Arthur."

"What're you here for?" Matthew yawned.

"I've finished the potion for you. For you to become a human."

"That's nice," he replied sleepily.

"Wouldn't you like to take it? I've come bringing it to you. I also brought you trousers and a robe. Now, I don't know if the trousers will fit once your legs have changed. There's no telling what size or shape they'll be." He fished in his pocket and produced the vial. He held it close so Matthew could at least see the concoction's eerie glow.

The other took it in his hand and brought it even closer. He bent down and fished around in the straw to find his eyewear. He clipped the lenses on his nose and examined the vial. Matthew cocked an eyebrow. "This is it?"

"That's it."

"It's so small. I was expecting one of those, uh, big round… bottles?"

"Most likely you're thinking of a Florence flask. They're usually good for when you've got a lot of potion you're drinking over time. This is a small dose to be taken once. A sip, really, with your stature."

"And this little sip will make me fully human, eh?"

"I wouldn't give it to you if it didn't. In University, I studied doubly. During the day in light magic and at night in dark. As such, I became a true magician."

Matthew rolled the vial around in his hand. He knit his brow. His weight shifted. Again, he yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Are you… are you saying you want me to drink this _now?"_

"Why not?" Arthur gave an encouraging lick of a smile. _Oh, please don't be hesitant._ _The trousers issue is going to drive me mad._

"I don't know if I want to now."

"In the morning, more like?" _Even if you've never been with me, good sleep, I'll miss you._

"No, I mean, now, after what happened last night and this morning. I've been thinking, and I'm not sure I want to give up my strength. Could I even defend myself as something so small with only two legs? Against something like, like the dog-man? And Alfred. Even if deep down he does have control over his… _different_ tendencies, he still picks fights for no reason. If he does something foolhardy again, and I can't bail him out of it, who knows what will happen?"

"You forget he has us, too. He has friends. We all wish he'd stop being a ninny, but we do what we can."

Matthew nodded silently.

"And don't think you can't defend yourself. Didn't you say you were an archer?"

"Archer and marksman, though I prefer a bow because it's quiet. Fits my persona. But Arthur, I can't shoot the dog-man. He's only human inside. That's despicable. I already feel horrible for kicking him."

"It was just an example. Just because you're small doesn't mean you can't be strong."

Matthew's ears perked up. "Oh, I'm sorry for offending you! You are small, well, small to me, and I imagine you must be very strong yourself in some way, er, in a good way."

"There was no offense taken. To each his own. I'm a fairy, and I defend with magic."

"Magic," Matthew echoed softly. "And what does a human have?"

Nothing against magic, Arthur thought, but he said, "a human can still be very physically strong. You can still kick. I suppose you've never hit another person? Humans use their fists quite often."

"I'd never dream of hitting someone."

"What about the play-fighting with Alfred?"

"If he's asking for it, then he is an exception."

"I don't blame you."

Suddenly feeling weary, Arthur sat in the straw against Matthew's flank. He set the clothes down beside him and took some deep breaths. He was still hungry. What were the chances he sneaked into the kitchen for a midnight snack and found Alfred doing the same?

"It's chilly," he said.

"Yes," said Matthew. "I'd prefer my longhouse and a nice, toasty fire. It's the perfect problem. One half of me is always cold."

"I could conjure a flame, but my magic is weak right now, and I'm getting an awful headache."

"You should sleep and drink water. I don't know what I can do about your magic, though."

"Rest," Arthur said. "I suppose I should. I haven't slept since Ivan's sisters' place, and that wasn't very much. Francis kept returning and muttering in the other room. And, er…"

"What?"

"Sleeping in the same room as a changeling in his true form wasn't too comfortable."

Matthew smiled. "He hugged you, eh?"

"Hugged me? No. Why would he?" That was a most dreadful thought.

The Homoalces suppressed a snort of laughter. "Don't tell him I mentioned it, and I don't know if he does it anymore now that he's older, but sometimes he likes to hug things in his sleep. If he's got a big pillow or a person near him, he'll clamp on like a pike. It was an on-and-off habit when he was a calf. Sometimes he got hold of me really tight, and I couldn't breathe. We needed separate beds until he would stop."

"That's funny," Arthur said. "I've never seen him doing it. Except… last night he slept in a chair, and he was hugging a blanket to his chest. I've noticed him drooling in his sleep."

"I used to suck my thumb."

"My brother Allistor did, too."

There was a bit of a silence before Arthur spoke again. "Shall we reconvene in the morning, then? I really must get some rest. My head is spinning. Maybe you'd like some time to prepare if you do want to take it." Then cynically, he thought, _you're going to drink that because I feel terrible and lost hours of sleep for your little dream._

"Do you need help getting back to the door?"

"No, I think I'll be all right." Arthur tried awkwardly to stand. He could barely keep his eyes open. Dizziness slowed his movements. Hadn't he nearly fainted when finishing the spell of his crime? Granted, that one was of pure magic and not potionery, but the fatigue was similar. When he did finally stand, he realized he'd left the trousers and robe sitting in the straw, so he bent down to retrieve them.

"At least let me walk with you," came Matthew's voice from above. He had risen and made the comments about Arthur's small stature quite true. He leaned forward and put a hand on Arthur's head. "Thank you for coming to visit me. Alfred didn't earlier. I think I scared him." A little quieter, he grumbled, "Not that he didn't have it coming."

"I spoke with him. He hid in his room once we returned. Seems he can't tell whether you're angry or not," Arthur said as they began walking.

"I'm not. I mean, I am, but not really. It's complicated. I'm trying to rekindle the relationship with my brother, but he's not the brother I knew. He's a whatchamacallit. He has magical powers I never knew about until the day he left, and my judgement was clouded when I first learned about them."

"Are you cross with me for going along with him yesterday?"

"No, you were just as ignorant as I was at first about the incense. Alfred can try and justify anything no matter how dangerous. And really, I'm happy you went along. You were there to protect him. Be his voice of reason. His counselor."

"I stopped him from fighting the dog-man again."

Matthew jolted. "Again!? What is his fascination? Great maple, thank you so much for stopping him. You don't know how banged up he was when I found him lying there not moving. If he just tread slower, there would be a lot less trouble. Doesn't he see how fragile he is?"

"What he needs is guidance."

"I'll be his guidance if that's what he needs. I'll be another voice of reason for him."

"You're his brother. You should be."

Matthew stopped walking and was silent. Then he said, "you can have this back,"and offered the vial to Arthur. Only a viscous trickle of indigo liquid remained clinging to the glass.

"You drank it?"

He nodded. His face contorted into a quizzical expression. "I don't feel anything."

"Well, it won't work instantly. A few minutes, perhaps? The changes should be quick once it starts taking effect."

"No, I don't feel anything. I can't feel anything. It's all going numb. My whole body." He lifted his legs one after the other in confusion.

Arthur tensed. "That quick, eh? Potent recipe. Er, maybe you want to lie down. Otherwise you could stumble. Two legs, you know."

"Two legs!" Matthew exclaimed in shock. "I'm only going to have two legs!" He took a few steps back. His eyes were wide with unmistakable horror. Behind the lenses, they were nothing short of huge. "It's really happening, isn't it?" He clutched at his chest. "I'm going to turn into a human. I feel like I'm floating."

His hooves were planted firmly on the ground, but soonafter, change was visible. Matthew's form took on a dull indigo glow of its own. He examined his hands with dumb fascination. Taking heed of Arthur's words, he quickly lay down to avoid falling over. It was fortunate, for just as he lay comfortably, he started staring dreamily off into the distance not aware of anything and not caring.

The glow became brighter, but not so bright as to be blinding. It pulsed along the non-human parts of Matthew's body, which were already transitioning. Everything about him seemed to be growing smaller. His furry ears pulled in and reshaped into round, hairless ones. The bulge of his jaw diminished as his overlarge teeth lost their prominence. The antlers he simply shed. In his trance, he barely noticed them fall in front of him to leave his head much lighter. He gave a small grunt and coughed. His human lungs were getting smaller and his human heart a little bigger.

The rest of Matthew was a much more dramatic change. The stubby tail was gone in an instant. The muscles in his great back tightened with an immense pressure that looked like it would be terribly painful if not for the numbing. The spine joining the two halves popped as the back end started rapidly slimming and pushing toward the front. Extra vertebrae simply dissolved. The hump flattened and vanished.

Fur was thinning out. The brown and white patches were uneven and even again, but now a fine, soft honey-gold like the hair on his head and chest. What remained of the moose half reached the front. The hind legs met the fore before strangely merging. Four became two, and two started to thicken. The dense muscle bulged until the legs were in proportion to his upper body. The knees grew wider. Ankles stretched down and grew much more flexible. Arthur, at this point, had to turn Matthew onto his back so his face wasn't in the dirt.

The hooves of the newly formed legs softened and blossomed outward into broad feet. Two toes divided into four little ones, and the littlest ones divided again to make five for each. The back toes swelled to become heels. The soles toughened. They looked like feet hewn from marble. Arthur commended himself. The potion had been mixed perfectly. Matthew… dear Titania, was that really him? He was so small!

The glow dimmed. It settled down into Matthew's skin and was gone from sight. The Homoalces, no, _human_ stirred. His eyewear had fallen off sometime during the transformation. He coughed.

"Matthew," Arthur said cautiously, "can you hear me?" He wiped sleep from his eyes and yawned. Matthew's lilac eyes fluttered open. He was dazed for a few seconds. Arthur leaned over him. "Are you all right, love?"

The addressed choked out his speech. "Why… why are you above me? Why do I feel so strange? Why… my back is flat against the ground. And what's this feeling? Am I supposed to feel…? Wait, why…" He felt around his jaw and licked his teeth. Matthew looked to Arthur with the same fear as before he'd begun to change. "That's weird."

"How about you sit up? There's a lot more you should see."

"I know that. I can feel my front legs. They feel so bulky. My back ones… where are my back legs?"

"You don't have them anymore."

Matthew continued to inquire about the alienness of his new form, but Arthur just smiled. He helped to bring the other into a sitting position so he could see his new legs. He found Matthew's eyewear and gave it to him.

"This is… no, I don't like this. I don't like it. Where's the rest of me? Where are my paddles?" He saw where he'd shed them. "It happens in late winter anyway, but it's not late winter. It feels so wrong. All of it."

"Perhaps you can relate to Alfred."

"How can you think about that? I—my ears! What _happened_ to them?"

"I'm sure you'll get used to them."

"Is, um, is this…" He pointed.

Arthur looked. "Yes, that looks correct."

It was then when Matthew went rigid. He squeaked out a syllable as he wiggled his toes and felt the grass with the soles of his feet. "It's wrong," he whispered.

"What is?"

"Oh, no. No no no! No, it's wrong! You mixed it wrong! What have you done to me?" His fearful tone mixed with an angry one. Arthur felt glad Matthew no longer had antlers or sharp hooves.

But he'd mixed it wrong? Arthur's body went cold, and his heart thudded in his chest. He grabbed Matthew's shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong. I assure you I can fix it. Tell me!"

"You know what's wrong! Look at them! What have you done?" He pointed to his feet and kicked forward.

"They look perfectly normal to me."

"No, they're not! My hooves…"

"What hooves?"

"Oh, Arthur, I'm sorry, but you're being very rude about this. You know you changed my hooves wrong."

"The potion changed your hooves perfectly. I don't know what you're talking about."

"No, it didn't! Show me your own hooves and let's compare!"

"My hooves…" Then Arthur realized what Matthew meant. He remembered the dialogue between the two of them. It was an odd thing Matthew had said. _"You have two hooves to walk around on, and I have four."_

"Matthew… do you… do you think humans have hooves?"

Matthew's voice dropped to a whisper. "Please stop mocking me."

"But they don't, Matthew. Humans don't have hooves. They have feet with five toes. Those are feet. How have you never seen them before?"

"But, but they do have hooves. Everyone in Dinsmoor knows that. Humans have hooves just like us, but they hide them because they're very self-conscious. It's the same with the rest of their bodies. It's very impolite to ask a human what's under his clothes."

"Well, of course it is, but look." Arthur sat down and took off his own boot and stocking. "See, I have them, too. Humans and fairies both have them. The reason we wear boots is to protect them, not to hide them."

Cautiously, Matthew bent his legs and took one of his feet in his hands. He recoiled. "They have feeling in them." He squeezed his toes and bent his ankles. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"Would you like to try on some things?" Arthur sleepily offered the trousers. "You'll need undergarments and a decent shirt, possibly a good waistcoat. And boots, of course."

He helped the human try on both pairs of trousers. His sturdier build was of course too thick for Arthur's pair, and Arthur hadn't even realized the pair he took from Francis' room was purposefully tight, so Matthew could barely squeeze into them at all. However, with the issue settled in Arthur's mind, he gave Matthew the robe and helped him to his feet. He popped up onto his toes.

"Not like that. Put them down flat on the ground like this."

"I'm going to fall!"

"You're not going to fall. I've got you. I've got you, Matthew. Just take a step forward like this. Put your feet down. Don't walk on your toes. Like this. Heel first. Try roll-stepping."

Matthew lifted his right foot and put his leg forward in a stiff, heel-toe fashion like a marcher in a drum corps. Just before he put it down, he bent the foot and touched the ground with his toes. The other foot popped up too. When Arthur let go briefly to press his feet down, the human stepped backwards quickly and toppled over down onto his rear. He looked behind him quickly as if expecting his other half to be there with a phantom presence. It was not.

"How do you do it so easily on only two?" He asked softly.

"Balance."

"I can't balance. It's like trying to ride a bicycle with only the front wheel. And I'll never get that flat-footed thing. Even these feel natural up on the toes."

"They'll get sore," Arthur said. He offered his hand. "Let's at least get you inside. I don't know if there's an extra bedroom. Perhaps you can sleep with Alfred. He's got a bigger bed than all of us. Chose it himself, I imagine."

"Okay. Wow, inside? Really?" It was obviously true, but he had to ask. "Will I fit in there?"

Arthur nodded.

Matthew grinned eagerly. He really did look different without those teeth as the focal point. The angles of his face were soft yet defined. All except for one quirky curl, his hair flowed over and behind the smaller ears and framed his face with fetching symmetry. He could've been a fairy. Arthur knew the terrible reason why his face was so familiar, but he pushed the thought aside.

They were not too far from the front garden, and with Arthur pushing Matthew's back while the human put his arm around his shoulders, (it turned out Matthew was the taller of the two,) they slowly made their way to the great doors. Matthew was stunned at his new height. He no longer needed to crane his neck downward to see his companion. His companion was no longer so small. The doorframe, which had once been at eye-level, was now feet above him, and he gazed up with wonder.

When they entered the chateau, Matthew almost fell again. The tile was cold under his sensitive toes, and when he walked, there was no heavy clacking on its surface. Moonlight streamed through the windows unwavering. In the silence, he turned to Arthur and whispered. _"Je suis d'Amotoile."_ Arthur knew not what it meant, but Matthew was smiling and again lost his balance. He landed with an _oof_ and looked wildly how low to the ground he was.

The concept of crawling was even more difficult to explain, so again, Arthur helped him up and walked him over to the first-floor room of Alfred. The door was cracked and the bed occupied. The changeling was fast asleep with his limbs taking up as much space as possible. The blanket was low on his chest. Arthur looked from fairy to human. He furrowed his brow. Besides the ears, he would've believed they were twins. Twins? Or swap-child and changeling? Original and impostor? Arthur's mind blanked. He really was getting much too weak to be concentrating on anything. The muscles in his back and arms were sore from channeling magic.

The only thing that reached his consciousness as he helped Matthew into bed was how terribly unsettled he looked with lying on his back with only two legs and resting his head on a feather pillow.

* * *

Alfred could smell three things: fish, eggs, and sweat.

Something was tickling his nose. He cracked an eye and saw a patch of white dominating his field of vision. He blew upward. A wispy feather drifted up and floated down softly onto the counterpane.

He breathed in. The scent of fish was gone. It was probably leftover from his dream. He had been a bald eagle soaring over swampy, coniferous infinity. The sun warmed his feathers, and the updrafts carried him steadily on through the wind. He was free to fly as high as he wished. The eagle was king of the sky, and the sky of this country was bluer than blue.

But then, as a stroke of fortune, his golden eyes caught a splash of green in the lake below. It was a young walleye skirting the surface. The eagle tucked in his wings and dove. He fluttered and landed in a towering pine tree. Another eagle was not too far away. The first twittered a warning.

He cocked his head to the side and watched with one eye. The lake's placid surface rippled. A beaver swimming to its lodge left a streak of turbulence. Pike slithered through the weeds in the shallows. A slight breeze ruffled the eagle's feathers. He sat motionless on the tree branch. This was the patient hunt.

Then, he saw it again. A bubble broke on the water's skin. A dark shape moved below. The eagle focused in on the shape. Swiftly and silently, he leaped from the tree branch and tucked his wings. He aimed for the target. His gleaming talons outstretched. In a flash, he swooped down on the water and snatched up the fish. A victory! He flapped up toward the shore to enjoy his catch.

Eagles couldn't really smell, but Alfred smacked his lips and remembered how it had tasted in the dream. Was it a dream or a memory? Alfred noted firsthand as an infant the power and majesty of the eagle. It was one of the first shapes he'd been successful in changing into. He let vestiges of the dream wash over him and saw through the eagle's eyes again. He had to try becoming one without a reference soon. He knew the form well enough. He'd spent enough time in class doodling wings instead of listening.

Now, onto those other heavenly scents. Alfred knew the egg smell was real. Bright light hit his eyes when he opened them. This combined with the egg smell most certainly meant breakfast, which meant he was needed somewhere, and he would happily answer the call. Francis wouldn't starve him. That was negligence.

A soft sound suddenly reached Alfred's ears. It was a low sigh. Alfred squeezed his pillow tighter. There was a groan and movement. He opened his eyes and blinked. Alfred brought his arms away immediately. His body pillow wasn't red and velvety, nor did it move and make noise. And it certainly wasn't as warm as it presented itself.

Alfred threw himself out of bed. _Who the crap is that!?_ He thought frantically. Someone was in the bed with him! Slowly, he peeked up again. Wavy, honey-colored hair? This was a stranger. Well, this stranger had another thing coming. Little did he know, he'd decided to bed with a changeling.

He ducked down and crawled to the other side of the bed. Perhaps he could get a better glimpse of the stranger's face. He crouched and popped up on his toes. Slowly, he drew the blanket away from the stranger, who mumbled in his sleep. Alfred tried to recognize him. He knew the intruder looked familiar somehow. That jawline especially. Where had he seen that jawline before? Where had he seen that nose?

Alfred's patience was wearing thin. He'd just have to question the stranger. Clenching his right hand, he seized the blanket and ripped it away from the stranger's body. He then threw his fist right into the stranger's stomach as hard as he could. The stranger wheezed. His eyes shot open, and he doubled over.

"Who are you?" Alfred demanded. "Why're you here? I ain't got anything of value, and, and… I'm a changeling! That's right. A changeling. I can become your worst nightmare if you don't talk, and you can't back me inda any dark corner."

The stranger's eyes were wide with fear. He looked around and whimpered. He coughed. "I'm —"

"You're who? Wait. Wait wait wait… are you…?"

"Yes!"

Alfred bent down and scrutinized the other's face. He gazed into the other's eyes. There was a dark shimmer in them. It was faint. He must have been using some kind of illusory magic to hide it. That was why he looked so familiar. He was trying to copy.

Alfred put his hands up. His demeanor shifted, yet he was still suspicious. "Oh, really sorry, man."

"Thanks for the apology," the other grumbled.

"Nice to see a fellow." He rubbed his thumb and ring finger together. "You picked the right room in this place. Can't say I liked that you didn't wake me up or anything. You'll really have to tell me what happened there. Word of advice: if I were you, I'd steer clear of this whole country. I was in Fleur de Vie just yesterday. Do not go there."

"What are you talking about? We're 'fellows?'"

"'Course we are," Alfred said. He opened a drawer and pulled out some fresh clothes. He glanced out the window. "Nice, sunny morning, ain't it?"

"I suppose, but what do you mean by not going into Fleur de Vie?"

"Wards. Everything you can imagine. Don't take me lightly. Some of it you can't even see until you're touching it and it sears your flesh."

"Alfred, what are you talking about?" The stranger said again.

Alfred stiffened. He glared at the intruder. "So you know my name already. Okay, can we get this over with, then? What are you looking for? A place to hide? Obviously, you've done your research about me. The thing is, I just happen to be one too, and I can't understand why you just changed and slipped into bed with me. I thought the first rule was to hide the body and _then_ rest easy."

"I slipped into bed with you because you have the biggest bed, and I'm not looking for a place to hide or trying to hide a body. I'm Matthew."

Alfred rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. "Nice to meet you, Matthew. You're the dumbest fellow I've ever met."

"I'm _Matthew!_ Alfred, I changed into a human!"

"You got bad sight or something? Dude, I'm a fairy." He brushed his hair back and tugged on his ears.

"No, Alfred. I'm Matthew. I'm your brother Matthew. I didn't turn into you. I turned into a human who looks like you."

"Yeah, and I'm queen of the fairies. I tell you, Matthew, try all you like to fool me, knowing my brother's name and all, but I know you're a changeling like me. I can see the darkness in your eyes. You need me to prove I am one?"

"You hugged me while you were sleeping just like you did when you were a calf."

"A _calf_. Now, that's not very nice."

"It is in Dinsmoor, Alfred."

"How much do you know about me?"

"Everything. I'm your brother Unseen Matthew. Really! Look at me!" He crawled out of bed and stood up. He walked forward a few steps on his toes before starting to wobble. He splayed himself out to balance, but fell backwards onto the bed. Quickly, he grabbed his eyewear from the side table and put it on.

Alfred leaned over the stranger. He'd sworn he'd seen dark magic in the intruder's eyes. And why else would anyone change into him? Still… how could this be Matthew, his nearly-twin brother? How could he have changed into a human?

Unless…

Alfred's mouth was dry. He squinted incredulously. "Matthew…"

"Yes?" Matthew said hopefully.

"It doesn't make any sense."

"It will! I'll explain it all to you. It was a few days ago, and—"

"How could you possibly be one, too!? You're… Mattie, are you like me? H-how did you not know? Or have you known the whole time? No, you couldn't have! You hated me when you found out I was one."

"What? No, I'm not a thingamajig! I'm a human — Homoalces. It was Arthur. He made a potion for me, right? He turned me into a human so I can travel with you and experience the world like you do. Alfred, it's me." He sighed and said dryly, "It's _Hornless Mattie."_

Oh. That was a lot more plausible. Alfred felt like his head was going to explode when he thought of Matthew being a changeling. Now, the pressure released, but it still didn't make any sense. This couldn't be Matthew. Matthew wasn't human. He was a great big friendly beast with a giant overbite and furry ears. He ate pine boughs and shoots and stems. And cuss, Matthew wasn't supposed to be good-looking! Alfred had grown up with Matthew's genes but no moose and become strikingly handsome. But it turned out removing the moose from Matthew made him an easy rival. Alfred wasn't sure he was pleased with this development.

"So you're human now." Alfred sat on the bed next to his brother. He reached down and opened his satchel. From it, he pulled a pocket mirror. He held it up, and they both looked at their reflections.

"Oh my goodness," Matthew squeaked. "My _teeth."_ He brought his lips up and smiled. "Not even an overbite. Sweet maple, I look weird."

"You look super weird," Alfred agreed. "Weirdest-looking guy I've ever seen."

"These look so funny," he continued as he tugged on his ears. "I think I like yours better. The pointy ones."

"We could really be twins, you know."

"Remember Reginald, that trader who thought we really were twins? We'd mess him up on purpose. You could mimic my voice really well."

"I remember. He eventually figured us out, though, right?"

"Right. I've got a little white patch of fur on my leg that looks exactly like a maple leaf. He just used that, and for you he used that little stick-up chunk of hair."

"Mattie, what leg?"

"Uh, it was…" He looked down and was at once disturbed by the sight of his unfamiliar lower half again. "The back of one of them. The right one?" He examined his legs. His brow raised in surprise. "It's still there. Look." He pointed. It was not a patch of fur, but a snow-white birthmark on the back of his right calf. The shape was unmistakable.

"It's like my star," Alfred said. "Maybe we really are twins. By spirit or something."

"Maybe…" Matthew trailed off.

"So it was Arthur, huh? Why didn't he tell me about this? I just _punched_ you because I thought you were a stranger."

"Yes, you did," Matthew admitted in sarcastic indifference. "I think it was supposed to be a surprise."

"Well, let's go see if he's in having breakfast. After all these years, we're the same size again. Shame you're not a fairy, though. If Arthur had a sense of humor, maybe he'd make you a changeling."

"I'm fine being human," Matthew said politely, but with a subtle edge. "Am I decent? It's only a robe. I don't want to be unintentionally rude."

"I don't have anything extra for you. I've been borrowing Francis' clothes. He'll have to bring you inda town and get some stuff. Anyway, there aren't any ladies, so you're good in a robe."

"Oh, thank you. There's a lot of stuff I didn't realize I'd need to learn. Like what are those called again?"

"Pants."

"Really? I thought Arthur called them something different."

"They're called pants, Mattie. Trust me. Don't listen to Arthur if it's clothing."

Alfred finished dressing and started for the door. "Aren't you coming?"

Matthew pushed himself up from his seat on the bed. He put his arms out and tried to balance. His form quickly spun off its axis. "Could you help me?"

"Help you with what?"

"I'm not quite used to walking yet. Just help me balance, okay?"

The simple request brought Alfred back to another time.

In a flash, it was a warm summer morning in Sunset Country, where the sky was bluer than blue. Robins were chirping patterns. In the distance, a loon cried on the lake. The sun cast shadows through the ancient trees, and a seeming pair of twins struggled on the ground.

"There's no rush," Matthew said. His voice in memory was like a faint rustling of leaves.

"I'm not rushing!" Alfred retorted. "Stop touching me! I can do it!" Alfred did not like to have Matthew's voice. He beat it and wrenched it out of his throat in a loud, determined timbre.

The two calves were not very far from the longhouse, yet they had been stumbling along together for nearly half an hour. Matthew's countenance was a portrait of exasperation as he carefully held the other's shoulders. Both were hungry, and Alfred's attitude was making it harder and harder to move forward. He stomped a front hoof in annoyance and screwed up his face.

"Breathe. It's okay. You don't have to be fast or coordinated. I'm clumsy too, and I'm not trying to walk on three legs."

Alfred glanced sadly back at the splint on the leg not touching the ground. Just looking seemed to make the fractured bone and stitches hurt. Powerful emotions welled up in him, but he shoved them away. An alternative was looking into Matthew's bright, lilac eyes, but even those were too full of life to do anything but exacerbate the turbulence.

"Are you all right? You can say if you're not feeling well. I can bring you some breakfast, and we'll try again later. We always prepare extra-full baskets for the sick."

"But I want to eat now with the others!" He shrieked.

"Alfred, really. You don't have to. Everyone's going to visit you later. What you really need is rest. You're weak."

"I'm not weak!"

Matthew stepped back a bit at his unruly outbursts. He stared at Alfred concerned, and the injured calf had to avert his gaze. He puffed out his cheeks in endless frustration.

"I didn't mean you're weak," Matthew whispered. "I meant you should take care of yourself. That was scary what happened to you."

"I want to walk. I'm going to walk." Alfred took a step forward with his foreleg, then his other foreleg, and when he lifted the back leg, there was nothing to support his back half, and he wobbled. He scrambled forward on the two forelegs, but the good back one dragged, and the elevated one kept coming dangerously close to hitting the ground.

Alfred stopped. His whole body was off. His weight was outlandish, and so was the shape of him. Four legs? Three legs? Long, spindly legs? Walking was nearly impossible, but Alfred didn't want to wait for Matthew to bring him food. He needed it now, and he needed a lot of it. Fearfully, Alfred pondered whether this new shape would need even more than his old one.

Matthew's hands were on his shoulders again. "One step at a time. I'll help you balance. Let's try again."

Alfred didn't reject him.

In Alfred's bedroom, the changeling looked at his miraculously human brother and gave a shiny smile. "Sure I'll help you, bro. Let's go find out what's cookin'."


	32. The Principle

"Isn't it beautiful?"

The question went unanswered as usual. Arthur never expected anyone to answer, and he didn't understand why he spoke at all, as if there were a presence who could hear it. Not necessarily someone who could answer, but a silent companion with him. A silent companion which needed to be reminded it was alive by the sound of his voice and his satisfaction. He sat at the back of the long table in the dining room gazing out through dew-studded windows. The sun wasn't completely up, and birdsong was just beginning to spatter the air.

He absentmindedly took another egg from the bowl on the table and rolled it in his hand, working the heat spell as he did. It was a gentle exercise he often did at home after being overworked. Every magician, he imagined, had some kind of simple spell to soothe the strange aches that came after big magic. The shell vibrated. He could feel the contents boiling and hardening into a solid mass the same shape as the shell. The shell itself was growing hot. Arthur soon had to pass it between hands. It was when the egg was stinging hot that he quickly thrust it back in the bowl to cool.

Arthur was supposed to be resting, but it was nice to pretend for a minute that he was alone in a big house no matter what crude decorations filled it. That, and his dreams were disturbing as usual. He was unable to even fathom the vision that had woken him. Arthur was quietly enjoying teatime with a book, (and for added silliness, in his pinstriped pajamas,) when the roof of Kirkland Manor was ripped clean off by the talons of a giant eagle. Riding on its back was Alfred, who commanded the beast to land in his garden. "Coming with?" He kept saying. "Coming with me?"

"And where are we going?" Arthur questioned as he recalled Alfred's insistent beckoning. He looked in the bowl of eggs and felt them. Two were still cold. "By rum, where _is_ my life going? Just yesterday, a changeling called me his friend. A bloody _changeling."_

He shouldn't have thought it strange. After all, they were companions, and they had helped each other out of tight binds. If he were even to admit it to himself, he liked having someone to chat with when it came to magic. But still, Alfred was his companion, his associate, his fellow commissioned mercenary. _Friends_ sounded… juvenile. _Friends_ didn't feel right on his tongue or sit well in his stomach. The thought of being _friends_ with a creature of darkness felt like a chasm full of smoke; it was certainly treacherous, but he didn't know exactly how deep it was or how jagged the rocks at the bottom were. It was this uncertainty that made the chasm all the more dangerous to approach.

He remembered what Ivan had said. _"He is relatable, and—"_ What would the demon have said if Arthur allowed him to finish the sentence? Arthur shook his head. The first part was enough. He found the changeling relatable, and he supposed Alfred only found him the same. That was it. They were simply relating to each other. Arthur and a changeling found each other relatable.

No, that syntax still didn't ease him.

"What are you doing up so early?"

Arthur jumped. Francis trailed his fingers over the table as he approached. In his other hand was a crystal glass. He let out a yawn. His unshaven stubble was a blond shadow.

"I could ask the same," replied Arthur. "What's that you've got there? Wine?"

Indeed, Francis' glass was half full of pungent, ruby-colored wine. He sipped some as he reached the end of the table. _"Oui,"_ he said in affirmation.

"Good lord, chap. It's barely sun-up."

"It's only a little wine," Francis said as if in a trance. "Would you like some?"

"I'll take some of Yao's breakfast tea. Would you like a boiled egg?" He offered a hot one from the bowl.

"When did you make those?"

"Just now. They're hot." He looked Francis in the eyes as if to say, _that's right. With magic._

Francis took the egg from Arthur, and whether out of spite or silliness, struck it thrice on the fairy's head. He then set down his glass and started peeling the shell from the steaming white. Arthur realized he was staring and returned his gaze to the window. Francis seemed passive. Contemplative. He certainly thought a morning indulgence was necessary. Maybe that was just how he usually spent mornings at home, but was he still angry with the fairies?

"It's still cold," the human said suddenly. Arthur looked. The middle of the egg oozed liquid yolk. It bubbled out of the solid white and dripped over Francis' fingers. He set it down in the bowl and wiped his hands with a silk handkerchief from his pocket.

"Did you expect it to be hot?" Arthur asked with a hint of humor. But he realized that Francis was glaring at him and regained his composure. The knight had taken it personally. "There's no harm done," Arthur added. Yet if Francis saw it as spiteful, he wouldn't deny at least part of a jest.

"If you have taken my eggs already to make whatever this absurd compilation is, I may as well make something with them, too. Good omelettes will be satisfying." He picked up his wine and strode toward the main hall. Absurd compilation? They were just eggs in a bowl. Some were cooked, and others weren't. There was no harm done in picking a half liquid egg. Then again, the fairy had offered it. Arthur smirked and snapped his fingers under the table. A tiny cry proved the carpet had ridden up and Francis almost tripped. As Yao would say, Francis was in a mood.

It wasn't long after Francis started letting off steam in the kitchen that the other guests soon sauntered sleepily down to the dining room. Yao had expected Arthur to request tea, and with the fairy's help, soon had a hot kettle to pour. This he enjoyed with another egg, which proved to be solid. Ivan took an egg and cracked it on Arthur's head, and Yao, seeing this silliness, did the same.

That left one Merc to enter the party and taint its tired serenity with tireless enthusiasm and that awful appetite.

And his brother, too.

 _Oh, Titania,_ Arthur thought. There was Matthew, too. Matthew was changed. Matthew was inside now sleeping with Alfred. This wouldn't be a peaceful morning when either one awoke. Who would have to explain things? Arthur.

He remembered being in court with the high judge in her grossly adorned chair that made it look as if she had oversized butterfly wings protruding from her back. _"Arthur Fitzwilliam Kirkland, did you or did you not use the forbidden arts to enchant—"_

"Why, yes I did," Arthur said under his breath.

"You did what?" Yao asked.

"What haven't I done?"

Yao looked thoughtful. "I guess you haven't told us what you did with dark magic."

"That I have not."

"I already know," said Ivan.

"And I trust that you can respect my confidentiality like you did with Alfred's secret."

"We needed to know his secret," Yao said.

"I suppose we did. That was not a good analogy. Nonetheless, Alfred's being a changeling is an important part of him. Details of my crime are not important. They will not help us on our mission like the power to shapeshift can."

Yao sighed. "When has even shapeshifting helped? Feliciano isn't sitting at this table with us sipping tea and regretting his stupidity."

"That's because he's beguiled," Arthur said. "Alfred and I believe Feliciano is under a spell that binds him to Ludwig's intentions. Ludwig himself admitted it."

"Beguiled!" Yao exclaimed. "How will we convince him?"

"We'll have to break the spell. Then his mind may be open to persuasion."

"You're the magician. You take that job," Yao said with brevity. Arthur felt something in his heart lift its scaly head and smile with sparks blowing from its nostrils. It was his pride.

"We are not failures yet," Arthur said. He was about to say more, but there came a crash from the foyer and voices. The fairy froze. The brothers were awake.

"What was that?" Yao said. He started to rise. "Alfred?"

"It sounded like little changeling," Ivan said, "but I hear someone else, too."

"Someone else? Who could someone else be? I am in here with you and Arthur, Francis is in the kitchen, and that loud voice was Alfred. That's five."

"I think it is sixth," Ivan said.

"Six?" Yao asked. "How could there be six of us?"

"There are six of us, now," Arthur said plainly.

Yao wasn't listening, however, because a pair of twins entered the dining room. Despite appearances, they didn't move identically. The one who wasn't dressed was clinging desperately to the other and slumping on quivery legs. The one who could walk only held the other's arm up, which wasn't much help to the distressed.

"Just… just yes, let me sit down," The awkward one said.

"I'm not lettin' you sit on the floor," said Alfred.

"Please. It feels natural."

"No, bro, come on, end of the table. You'll sit in a chair. Everyone's waiting."

The awkward twin looked up and flushed as red as the robe he wore. Arthur gave a sheepish smile back.

"Alfred," Yao said, "who is that?"

"Still not sure myself," Alfred replied.

"Alfred!" His twin scolded.

"I'm kidding."

"No, Al, I mean either help me or let me sit. Please. My walking is just getting worse."

"You walk fine."

"I obviously do not."

"Oh, let me help," Arthur said. He rose from the table to assist the twin. Alfred lifted under one armpit and Arthur the other. The twin walked on his toes. He ultimately had to sit in a chair to satisfy Alfred's wishes. Alfred sat next to him. In the light, their faces were mirror images. It was only the minor differences in eye color and hair which really set them apart. They even looked the same in height and build. A shiver worked its way through Arthur. Twins. One with pointed ears. Was it a folktale or a nightmare come to life?

Alfred locked his eyes with the staring green pair. "Arts. Did you really change him? You made a potion? Was it the potion you were working on the other day?"

"I did, and it was," Arthur replied. "It was per his wishes, I assure you. He was quite interested in being able to walk as one of us. As soon as I make the antidote, he will be able to return to normal whenever he likes."

"Oh, I can believe that. Just wanted to make sure you knew about it. He's got traces of dark magic in his eyes. I thought he might be a fellow dark fairy trying to steal my shape."

"I'm _not,"_ the robed one whined.

"Who are you?" Yao asked.

The twin muttered.

"Who?"

"I'm Matthew," he said a bit louder.

"He's my brother Matthew, and _you,"_ he indicated Arthur, "turned him into a human. Right? That's the story? He's not tricking us? If I look outside, I'm not gonna see a Homoalces Mattie sleeping in the straw? I punched him."

"This feels like a dream," said Matthew.

"Why did you punch him?" Arthur shot back.

"Thought he was an intruder or a thief! You shoulda woke me up before lettin' him in my room!"

"That was a flaw, but all the same, you could've recognized my face," Matthew murmured. "Hey, Arthur, do you remember what I said last night about pike?"

"Pike?"

Matthew mimed clasping his arms around something. Arthur nodded.

"Really?" Arthur said.

"Yes, it happened."

"What are you talking about? What about pike?" Alfred asked. "What, Mattie?"

"I'd rather not," Matthew said.

"You are Matthew? The large, furry one Matthew?" Yao asked. "You transformed with a potion?"

"I am. Yep," Matthew whispered.

Ivan was smiling his terrible smile. "I now see that I am tallest again. Order has been restored, _little_ Mattie."

Matthew raised an eyebrow and shivered.

"Are these the eggs I smelled?" Alfred asked. He snatched one out of the bowl.

"Boiled eggs that I made," said Arthur. "Francis is making omelettes in the kitchen."

"I'll settle for a boiled egg while I'm waiting," Alfred said. He popped the egg in his mouth shell and all. "Chewy _and_ crunchy. Good work. I like it," he remarked. His swallowing without reaction made the others squeamish.

"You mustn't eat the shell," scolded Arthur. He gave Alfred another egg. This one had cooled off more. "Try with this one. Crack it on the table and peel the shell off." Good Peaseblossom. It was like he was explaining things to a child even younger than Alfred actually was.

"Crack it on his head," Yao said.

"No, crack it on the table," Arthur forced. But before he could stop him, Alfred struck the egg twice on Arthur's head. The shell cracked open down the center. Arthur felt something cold and wet running down through his hair and over his forehead. He wiped an eye with his knuckles. His hand was slimy. The yolk landed with a _splat_ on the folds of his cravat.

The changeling burst into laughter. His brash timbre echoed throughout the room. "That one was _raw!_ Dude! Egg-face! I totally just egg-slimed you! Priceless! You! You gave me a raw egg!" He grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself. Every time he looked at the unintended victim, he wheezed. His blue eyes turned watery.

Arthur, with no equal amusement, wiped egg from his face and smeared it all over Alfred's cheek. "I'm going to wash up," he announced and made his way toward the door.

"Aw, I'm sorry, Arts! He told me to! It was Yao! Hey, now I gotta clean this off, too!" He hurried after Arthur still grinning like an idiot and licking the residue he could reach. "It's not half bad raw, you know. You have to get past the texture. I like to pretend it's pudding. Ah, I'm feeling better today. I didn't realize how pooped that incense stuff was making me."

Arthur stopped listening at "pudding." He screwed up his face when he saw Alfred's tongue pining for more smeared egg. "That's disgusting! Stop eating that! It'll make you sick."

"Never made me sick before." Alfred, always one to follow his own path, furtively wiped a finger of egg from his cheek and sucked on it.

They reached the foyer. Arthur stopped and crossed his arms. "Now then, we're going to settle this. A couple of days ago, we asked you if you ever stole eggs from chicken coops. You wormed out of answering directly, which left all of us to only assume an answer. Now tell me, did you or didn't you?"

"Did I ever steal from chicken coops?"

"That is the question. Yes or no."

"I don't know, did I?" He was smirking.

"I'm not trying to be funny."

"I didn't say you were."

"Answer the question."

"You answer the question."

"The question is for you."

"You could answer it first. Did you ever steal anything?"

"Not eggs."

"So you did steal something, just not eggs?"

Arthur sighed and shrugged. "I stole some 'illegal equipment' from a magic supply shop when I was sixteen. I was arrested for it."

"Really?" Alfred looked surprised. "You've been arrested more than once?"

"I have," he said curtly.

"Well, what did you do the other time?"

"You're never going to know."

"Well, shoot." He snapped his fingers and flashed his friend an almost forlorn look.

"Alfred, how will knowing what I did revolutionize your life and fill you with unending exhilaration? I'm truly interested. Tell me how if you knew details of my crime, you'd be transformed forever by your enlightenment."

"Well, first of all, I can transform myself however I want, and second of all, you're making me want to know. You've got a juicy secret, and I'm gonna knock on that door and yell and holler 'til you invite me in. That's what friends do. Nag each other."

There was that word again. He used it so casually that it was both tepid and frigid at the same time. It was tepid because in a most peculiar way, Arthur had accepted that Alfred was not his enemy, (though being terrified of him was quite another story,) and frigid cold because of its gravity which pulled him ever closer to the edge of the dubious crevasse. He could practically feel the rim with his toes and see down into the endless haze.

"Why are you staring at me? You've got more egg than I do. Gonna go to waste if you leave it there." Alfred said. Deep in thought, Arthur had forgotten his situation. He was, however dignified, the victim of a raw egg cracked open on his head.

He averted his gaze. "Right, then. I'll need a change of attire."

"Meh, it's just your tie."

"And it is my tie which needs to be changed."

Ten minutes later, after Arthur scrubbed egg out of his hair and face the best he could whilst cringing at the decor, _(a tub with frog's feet instead of dragon's feet and those flowered tiles. All of this is a travesty! An absurd compilation!),_ he tucked a fresh tie under his vest collar and combed his hair into the margin of decency. He had to admit, something about the egg had made it almost glisten with health. Arthur toyed with a conspiracy that Francis wanted his egg to be raw in order to splatter the fairy earlier and force him to try some exotic beauty treatment. Either that or it was like Alfred joked and Francis wanted to spite him anyway he could.

He snapped his fingers, and the hand-towel flew up and wiped beading droplets from the back of his neck almost lovingly. He snapped them again, and it was lifeless. A snap, snap magic was, though it was actually considered an advanced form because of the sheer will needed in an instant. Despite its difficulty, it could only be used for little things. One couldn't prepare tea and cake or dust every shelf in the library with a simple snap. It was silly how such petty spells made humans intimidated.

Feeling then satisfied with his appearance, he again descended the stairs and entered the dining room. Finally, food was served. The room should've been in healthy conversation. Instead, Francis was staring at Matthew white-faced while the latter flinched under attention, Alfred was gorging himself, Ivan was in the midst of turning his food into blocks of ice, and Yao was rendered speechless by the lot of them. He looked to Arthur in a silent plea for assurance.

"Sorry it took so long," he announced as he took his seat next to Yao. Then, rather bitingly, he added, "I would appreciate if you did not encourage him so in the future."

"Yeah, Yao, don't egg me on," Alfred blurted in between bites. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Do not speak when you're eating."

Alfred swallowed. _"Is this another lesson in maturity? Oh, goody-goody-gumdrops-happy-lemon-pudding-on-a-Sunday."_ He clapped his hands excitedly.

"What did I tell you about mimicking my voice?"

"At least it's your voice and not the rest of you."

"You get none," Arthur snapped. "You get none of it. Not my shape nor my voice nor my manner of speaking nor the right to test my patience."

"Ah, so I do have the right to charm you if I ever need you to shut up?"

"Consider that taking my voice. And I thought we were clear on the grounds of charming me a long time ago."

"Which is that if I charm you, you'll torture me."

"I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did!" Alfred said, donning a defensive expression. "You listed all the ways you would torture me. Hanging me by my ankles, scissors on my face, the Tantalus method. It was all awful stuff."

"Those were all of them products of my anger with you for promising me I could trust you and then casting a dark spell on me not two seconds after."

"Those were all of them?" Alfred mused. "Can you not speak or…"

"Um…" A tiny voice said. "Could we maybe…"

"To be fair, Arthur, I did kick him in the back of the head," Yao added. "He looked pained. He made you look dead. We all thought you were dead."

"And I froze your wrists," said Ivan. "I do not think that was torture, though."

"Looked like torture," Alfred muttered. "But hey, let's not torture each other, okay? We're a fellowship."

"Right, Alfred. Let us mutually agree to not torture or cast spells on one another or pretend we are each other."

"But what if we need to?"

"Give me an instance."

"I dunno, we need to confuse the dark wizard so we change into copies of the one he's looking for and fly around on different, wait, no, that's something else. Give me a minute, and I'll come up with a good one."

"Do not change into me," Arthur hissed.

"If we're not allowed to torture each other, what would you do if I did change into you?"

"If you did, you'd be breaking the 'don't-change-into-your-companion' rule, so I'd be free to break the 'don't-torture-your-companion' rule."

"Right, except you make it sound like a free-for-all, in which case I've got Ivan as my backup."

"Oh, no," said Ivan, "If it is free-for-all, then I will do what I want."

"Oh, it's battle royale! I love this! Say Arthur does get me tied up by my ankles. All I'd need to do is turn into an eagle, and my talons would just slip out of the knot. Then I could fly, so double points."

"What if it's a magic knot that tightens if you grow smaller?"

"Sharp beak. Triple points."

"What if Ivan freezes you to the rope?" Yao said.

"In that case, I change back into a fairy."

Arthur slammed his fists on the table. "Way OP!"

Alfred leaned in. "How is that OP? You probably know like a zillion different spells."

"You're a shapeshifter! You could just change into me and use the same spells!"

"So it _is_ okay for me to change into you?"

"No!"

"But you admit my powers are cooler than yours."

"Shut your gob! I'd never want your ruddy powers!"

"Will you all cease bickering!?" It was Francis. Arthur could practically see a vein popping from his forehead. Yet despite looking as if he were about to heave ferocity upon them, his words were quite histrionic. "You are giving me a terrible headache. It is unbecoming of all of you. We have one of us who states we are a fellowship, and then you go and talk about fighting each other."

"It's just pretend," Alfred said.

Francis shook his head. "You all get into this fight, however imaginary, and I was just hoping to ask about _mon petit Matthieu…"_

"Oh, Francis, sorry about that," Arthur said. He looked over at Matthew, who appeared to shrink in embarrassment. "Yes, he was telling me about your stories, and I believed I could help him. There will be an antidote."

"But he can't walk," Francis retorted.

"'Course he can walk," Alfred said. "He just can't balance."

"I can learn," Matthew said. "It's just… hard."

Francis looked at Matthew with a loving smile of reassurance. The following he stated with blatant restraint: "I am not angry that he is now human. I will now be able to show him Amotoile like he has wanted to see it. But I have to say it was a great shock to me to see him this way. Especially because of his trouble with balance. From now on, there are no more secrets. We tell each other when we plan to do things, and we must all agree."

Arthur knew it had a double meaning.

"But we've got six," said Alfred. "That means we've got a chance to be evenly split."

"I think it's the principle," Arthur said, flashing Alfred a warning look. "Openness."

"Oh, I get it. So we tell each other everything? Can you tell us what you did to get arrested?"

Arthur sucked in a long, drawn-out breath through his nose. He drew his great brows together and held his face in his hand. "How did I know you were going to say that?"

"I know, right? I ask you so often it's like you can predict it. So can we know? All of us? Can you tell us?"

"No," Arthur said with finality.

There came a knock on the great doors in the foyer.

"Who could that be?" Francis said. "Picardy doesn't come on weekends, and Jeanne couldn't possibly be back yet."

"No trouble, Francis, I'll go see," said Arthur.

"Nice, convenient situation for you to get out of answering my questions," Alfred remarked.

"They're not your answers to have," Arthur said as he left. Fine, then. If Alfred wanted to twist words around and play games, he would gladly play along. All dark creatures loved games. That was the challenge, then. He would keep his secret a secret for as long as possible. He supposed grimly that Alfred would find out eventually, but it would not be because of Arthur telling him. His mouth would be glued shut.

The knocking continued. Arthur hurried to the door and peeked through the window. Every alarm bell went off in his head. He made a sharp one-eighty and sprinted back to the dining room.

"Alfred, Ivan, go to your rooms and don't come out. It's _her._ It's the girl from the city."

"Girl from the city?" Asked Francis. "Lucille?"

"Whatever her name is. You two go hide yourselves."

"Why should I hide myself? I'm disguised."

"She's heard your voice," said Arthur. "And Ivan, what about you carrying the changeling out?"

"I ate changeling," said Ivan. He smiled like the idea was genius.

"You what!?" Alfred exclaimed. "No, you did not! I'll say you knocked me out, but you damn-well did not eat me!"

"She does not know what demons eat."

"And you think I'd let you eat me?"

"You would if I killed you first."

"How can you just say something like that? Arthur's Commandment Number 1: Do not torture your companions."

"That is not torture. I did not actually try to kill you."

"It's the principle!" Alfred shouted.

Arthur seized Alfred's arm. "Just stop it and go hide away!"

"I'm not a little kid! Let go! I'll bite you!"

Arthur relinquished him. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Well, I won't now."

"Is this why you can't get anything done?"

They all froze. Coming toward them was Lucille. She seemed not interested in any particular individual, and thankfully, she did not seem to emanate any suspicion toward Alfred.

"Lucille," Francis said.

"Cousin Francis," she said and nodded. _"Comment allez-vous?"_

Francis sighed. _"Comme ci, comme ça."_

"Are these all of your companions?" She scrutinized the lot of them. Her eyes hovered over the two fairies. Arthur gave a small, unassuming smile, and Alfred inspected his nails.

"They are," Francis said.

"I did not know the demon was one of them."

"I had servants summon changeling to my castle. Very far away. He is to be servant himself. You will never see him again," said the demon. Beside him, Arthur watched Alfred's shoulders slacken.

"Yes, well, we really would've appreciated if you'd given the creature to us for questioning before you removed him, but as long as he's no longer a threat, we have to thank you for getting rid of him. However, your manner of doing so was quite rude indeed. We had _four_ critical cases of frostbite yesterday."

A chilling, devilish smile painted itself upon Ivan's face. Francis held up a hand, and Lucille saw that her argument was reaching the brink. She instead accepted apparent reality and changed the topic. "Francis, do you know whom I had dinner with last night?" She asked as she trailed her fingers over the table. "A very charming young man. Charming and sweet. He made me laugh."

"Ah, good!" Francis said. "Are you dating now often, or are you still betting kisses over cards?"

Her expression hardened. "The young man's name was Feliciano Vargas of the House of Roma. He was a fairy with golden-colored wings. Does he sound familiar to you?"

"Well, of course. He—"

"He had a friend with him. A Ludwig of Volkerburg. He sounds familiar, too, no?"

 _"Oui."_

"So if those two are in Fleur de Vie, and you and your companions are a twenty-minute walk away, how has the issue not yet been resolved? Feliciano told me many things last night."

"Oh, he did, did he?"

"I don't know how much of it is true. He told me the strangest things. You haven't swapped him with a changeling, have you?" She screwed up her face in incredulity.

Francis gave a wry smile back. "Of course not. What did he say about that?"

"He told me the mercenaries after him put a changeling in his place. He said you were working with a changeling. Isn't that funny? And he said this changeling put spells in his head."

Alfred made a high-pitched squeak of confusion in the back of his throat. Arthur nudged him.

 _"It could be true,"_ Alfred suddenly said. Arthur was about to stomp on his foot, but he realized that although the voice was not Alfred's, it was not Arthur's either. It was Matthew's. And Matthew, who was sitting not too far away, recognized it and tried not to laugh.

"You know something?" Lucille asked.

 _"I may,"_ said Alfred. _"We've been followed by a changeling, too, but he hasn't messed with us. That's because Ivan found him yesterday. It turned out he was the same one seen in Lafée. He'd been causing trouble all over Amotoile. It could be that he thought it would be funny to mess with a noble like Feliciano. We couldn't get him to say anything."_

"All over Amotoile? Then it is good he is gone. But then if a changeling really did put spells in his head, why did Feliciano say you put the changeling in his place? He seemed sincere about it. Ludwig agreed. Francis, I really don't believe any of it, but I'm confused. I know you'd never trust the dark folk." She turned again to the fairies. "You two know about magic."

"Maybe it wasn't really Francis that he saw," said Arthur. "Perhaps it was the changeling."

 _"Or a group of changelings,"_ said Alfred. _"A group of changelings who all looked like us."_

Lucille gasped. "No, it couldn't be. There are rumors about groups of them who all work together. I myself have investigated such cases. They could've been trying to steal the amulet from him."

"We certainly did not put a changeling in Feliciano's place. Whatever he told you is either the twisted lies of a changeling or the twisted lies of the dark wizard himself."

 _"The dark wizard put spells on Feliciano's mind. We know that for sure. Maybe the dark wizard worked some illusions, too."_

"Well, the dark wizard at least is a tangible threat, then. Which leads me back to the reason I came here. There are six of you, it looks like. Why then, has nothing been done about this dark wizard? He could be plotting what to do with Feliciano's amulet right now, and the mercenaries hired specially to prevent this are having breakfast in a big, comfortable house. Fairies, and poor Feli still has spells on his mind. A demon, and Ludwig still keeps secrets from you. This must end soon, Francis. You must work together to stop them. It can't be that hard, can it?"

 _"Not hard at all,"_ Alfred said confidently. _"We should start right away."_

"See that you do! I work in magical security. This is a serious matter," Lucille insisted. She reached over and grabbed a muffin from the plate closest to Matthew. "Are you two twins?" She asked.

"Yes," Matthew put simply. He put his head in one hand and made sure with the other that his longer hair covered his ears.

"Nice to meet you all, then. Sorry I didn't drop in earlier. How is the bite, Arthur?"

"All healed," he said. He showed her his hand.

"Good," she said.

There was a bit more casual conversation before Lucille left, and after that, the Mercs finished their breakfast.


	33. Wings of Green, Pt 1

_It's so hot, dammit._

At ten years old, he was something of a philosopher pondering the nature of existence. But to anyone who didn't see his thinking as profound and rather the sort of thing any person his age would ponder, (which was most everyone,) he was considered to be a chronic complainer with a perpetually sour disposition.

"Your face will get stuck that way, Lovinito," a voice playfully scolded.

Pretending not to hear, he continued coaxing the seedling out of the ground with gentle gestures. His left hand was flat on the soil and glowing a faint green. He felt a mysterious weight in his other and pulled back. More green poked out of the earth. It stretched upward toward the sun. A leaf took shape on the tiny stem. He felt its life force strengthen as it grew, pulsing and synchronizing with the vitality of his heart before diverging again as he released the spell.

The fairy then brushed the delicate plant softly with his fingertips. He leaned back to inspect it from a distance. It was a good, tiny life. Fresh, green, innocent, and new.

Too bad it had to live in such an annoying world.

There came a sprinkling from above. Droplets splattered on Lovino's hair and streaked down his back. They were so cold, he would've believed they were solid. Reflexively, he lifted his wings off the ground, but the water ran down onto them and sizzled. His wings faintly pulsed, and the skin burned where they met his back.

He whipped around. "What are you thinking, eh!? That hurt! My wings get hot in the sun, and you just poured freezing water all over them! Do I even look like a plant!?"

The one with the watering can bent down. "You shouldn't let them get too hot. They're delicate."

"If they're hot, I'll go inside," Lovino shot back. "And you don't even have wings. Why should you know all about mine?"

"You can't let them burn. If you don't notice, I have to."

Lovino's subsequent thoughts consisted of nothing more than _lo and behold, the bringer of my misfortune,_ (or a whiny child's equivalent.)

The man who in his mind was the bringer of misfortune was called Antonio. Along with being Lovino's perturber, he was also the young boy's master and caretaker. Granted, Lovino did not receive the workload or reward that an adult in Antonio's fields received, (nor did he wish to expend as much precious energy as they did,) but he still spent a good few hours every day tending the plants and helping new ones to grow and flourish.

His work was in fact the upside of his situation. Botanical magic had been his strength since he could remember. He liked growing the flowers and fruits and keeping them healthy. Sometimes he was caught talking to them when he thought no one else was around. Perhaps it was just because plants would shut up and listen to him. And they wouldn't call him "Lovinito" or scold him if he did something wrong.

 _Or_ pour freezing water on his hot wings.

"Why don't you take a break? These boxes look _excelente. Los tomates?"_

" _I pomodori,"_ Lovino corrected, though it was more a grunt than anything lucid.

Antonio further straightened to observe the fruits of Lovino's hard work, and Lovino stood to mirror him. The young fairy put his hands on his hips and looked out over the garden box. Twenty small seedlings had emerged from the soil and begun to wrap around the stakes. Lovino's cheeks faintly stung with sunburn, and his shoulders ached from casting. It was indeed time to take a break. He huffed out a sigh of relief and turned to face his visitor.

Antonio appeared the sort of character one would find in a scandalous romance story: the dangerous image of toned and tanned with rolled Rs and a disregard for the amount his shirt slipped down on his chest. The latter, of course, was purely the result of a frivolous nature, and in contrast to such a vision of appeal, Antonio was more likely to smile out of felicity than brood over some long past sin.

Still, judgemental as he was, Lovino couldn't see the thick horns poking out of Antonio's shaggy brown hair as decorative, and instead opted to call them the horns of some demon. How dare he be so happy all the time and act like the freezing water was more helpful than painful? Maybe it was because of his strange, mixed blood. Antonio was, after all, half monster. He was lucky he'd gotten his human mother's looks.

Once up in his room, Lovino filled a basin with water and applied a simple heat spell to bring it up to room temperature. He then took a moist cloth, and after wringing it out, brought it very gently over his wings. The water was soothing after the sun's unyielding rays. He let it drip slowly down over the green and fluttered. The wings caught the sun through the window and gleamed with the sparkling droplets running down their shapes. The cool air swirled around him and blew his hair like a sigh. He had to admit that Antonio was right. His wings were fragile. They could burn or wilt or tear, and those were only results of extreme heat.

No, Lovino may have not been the most coordinated in the air, but he still loved his wings. Deep greenish-brown and slightly curved at the ends in the same shape as his grandpa's. His fairy dust was the color of olives just like his eyes. When he gingerly wiped them with the towel, it stained the fabric green. He continued with washing the dusty sweat from his hands and face, and by that time, Lovino had become so aware of himself that he acknowledged the aching in his muscles and the excess heat leaving his body. He was growing sleepier by the minute.

"Maybe I just need a little _siesta,_ eh? It was a lot of work today. Carnations in the morning and tomatoes in the afternoon… I miss _l'uva._

Roma's vineyards were Lovino's favorite part of his old home. He had perfected his spells in the rows of grapes to the point where he could direct curling vines in whatever directions he wanted. They spiraled up the stakes and intertwined into braids and coils. Then, of course, he would pick grapes and stuff them both into his mouth and pockets. He'd often forget about the latter, and when the long dinners started, he'd sit down only to find that his pants were stained purple.

From homesick memories of the vineyards, his mind moved on more to these bittersweet recollections of the dinners, though they were often more bitter than sweet. It wasn't because he was young and had to go to bed before midnight. There was just something that irked him whenever he looked across the table. There always seemed to be people over there clouding around the little golden-winged brother. They gave him pats on the head and thanked him for singing at the dinner's commencement and persuaded him to sing another magic song with their overflowing praise.

" _Aren't you just the sweetest? And your voice is even sweeter."_

" _You know your gift runs thin in this land. You're so lucky. Just like your grandpa. And your father too."_

" _When you grow up a little bit, you ought to go to Deepishmond. Wonderful school for music casters. They'd take you in a heartbeat."_

 _"Nonsense. We can't break tradition. If you want to be a powerful fairy, you'll enroll in Straffino College when you're sixteen. They have an award-winning music program."_

" _You deserve a little wine, eh? I won't tell."_

And he would blush and receive them by tilting his head back so they could pat him even more. " _Veh, grazie. Veh, grazie. No grazie, io non bevo il vino. Voi bevete. Voi bevete."_

He was Feliciano, the little fairy of felicity and Roma's little heir. It wasn't fair, Lovino's negative side urged. If he had been born with that gift and could work magic with music, he'd be heir instead. It was like that in all fairy families. Heir was not the oldest nor the purest, but the most magical. Was Lovino magical? Certainly. But his birth crying had not been somewhat melodic and caused everyone within hearing distance to tear up with inexplicable joy. That was his brother's doing. And so after his brother had been born and his wings dried off, he was given a name that meant _happy one,_ and…

Ugh, _that_ memory. The apologetic yet straightfaced plucking of the laurel branch clip from Lovino's coffee-colored hair and the fastening of it in his gurgling brother's amaretto. Of course, back then, he only saw it as Feliciano stealing his shiny adornment. Now he knew it ran deeper. The golden laurel was a symbol of power. Felice's gift was rare and precious, and upon his chance inheritance, he'd scored himself the estate, the vineyards, and the respect. When Lovino was hiding in the grapes manipulating vines, Feliciano was practicing scales so he could sing to make grape juice flow into his glass. Which, after rejecting the idea of wine at dinner, he did. And everyone would line up to give him more pats and praise.

His perception of it all had dimmed over time. It wasn't that he'd stopped being envious; it was simply that he grew closer to defensive indifference like exponential decay: ever closer but never really reaching the axis. Envy hid in the back of his mind and remained an elusive creature that only came out occasionally. And envy hadn't been out for a while now since he'd not seen Feliciano in months. Without envy's dominance, he realized he had more important things to ponder and brood over.

His grandfather's passing still clung to his ankles like a sticky black shadow. It squelched when he stepped forward. It pulled him backwards, and as much as he didn't mind denying Roma's departure, Roma was not coming back. The will had been read; family and friends had given condolences; Feliciano had sung at the funeral — a song so poignant it made Lovino's heart feel like it was turning to stone and plunging into arctic, moonless waters. It physically hurt. He felt his wings grow heavy as their color dimmed, and with each bar, his cheeks grew wetter.

Feliciano never finished that song. The sheer sadness emanating from each note rippled through the entire audience, causing pairs of wings to grow pale and wilted left and right. Someone shouted that the heir himself was damaging his own wings by singing. Feliciano stopped with the music, but his weeping couldn't be calmed.

Without musical spells provoking tears, Lovino grieved in silence and solitude. He went out into the vineyards — Feliciano's vineyards now even though he didn't seem to care about them — and remained there for hours. His wings stayed dull for days. At one point, he believed they were dead until he weakly fluttered them. Feliciano's wings were no better. He fell silent and passive and wouldn't even play an instrument. He was urged to sing, but when he did sputter out weak notes, they were songs he'd made up, as he didn't want to remind himself of the ones Roma taught him.

In the strange way time makes wounds into scars, Feliciano started learning spells with his makeshift melodies, and he grew interested in music again. So much that he wanted to nurture his gift and grow it into something that inspired kisses and dates instead of petty pats. Likewise, Lovino started growing envious again, and on a stroke of recklessness, he announced to the adults he wanted to put his gardening talents to use and work.

And Antonio was more than happy to take him in.

Too happy.

Lovino lay on his side in his room with his healthy green wings stretched out comfortably. His thoughts were exhausting. His life was exhausting. There was always something to worry or complain about. An absence of conflict was tedious, but conflict doubly so.

Antonio's voice reached his ears when snacks were ready, but he ignored it. It was muffled under the quilt. The day was losing its binding on him. In minutes, Lovino was asleep.

* * *

He awoke in a different bed, his thoughts scrambled and his body feeling bigger and stronger. It was thirteen years later, and Lovino had seen a changeling with his own eyes. He rubbed them as the sleep lost its grip.

Lovino shot bolt upright, olivine eyes widening. Had he really just admitted it to himself? Had he seen the actual stuff of nightmares on the shoulders of a demon? Had it been as pale and hideous as he remembered, (even moreso than said demon?) That was what they really looked like? The creatures that stole away children? Like skeletal freaks with dark, soulless pits for eyes? How dare the scholars even _consider_ calling _them_ true fairies!

His weak and envious child-self had almost wished on stars for Feliciano to be stolen and replaced. He'd thought it would be a damned funny joke to see Felice's servants tending lovingly to a shapeshifting fiend fooling them all. Now it was no laughing matter. The creature he'd seen was a monster. If he ever found _that_ masquerading as Felice, wearing his clothes and speaking with his sweet little counter-tenor, he'd kill it. He'd force it to change into its ugly self and command vines to squeeze around its throat.

Hadn't Felice said one had already done so? Lovino's hands tightened. Something of a botanical flame flickered in his starlit eyes. Woah, woah, he was getting ahead of himself. Murder wasn't a healthy first thought of the day, and in the back of his mind, Lovino knew he wasn't a killer.

What had happened exactly? How long ago? It had been just after dark in Fleur de Vie, and it was a peaceful evening marked by sighs of simplicity and contentment. Lovino was certainly enjoying himself. He'd drunk just enough Allegrian wine to make him feel smooth and sharp at the same time, and then he went about chatting up girls who liked flowers. This city was full of them. At this point in time, he touched blooms in a window box and made them brighten and stretch open wider. It didn't take long for _le_ _ragazze_ to notice.

A certain object of flirtatious desire was just inside the flower shop he stood outside, and not long after, she came out to see what he was doing. She took one look at the flowers falling quickly under his command and pursed her lips in delightful intrigue.

"Is that magic?" She asked and leaned in to look.

He gave her a sparkling grin. " _Sì, bella._ I'm a garden fairy. Lovino of the House of Roma." He bent down and kissed her cheeks. She returned the favor, but then she could only give a confused smile and laugh.

"There's no sunlight to see those. I don't know what you're doing making them bloom when the sun's gone down. It's a waste."

"Just the same..." Lovino said. He looked around before settling his eyes on a huge pot of chrysanthemums. He pointed at it, the tip of his finger sparking. A purple mum stretched beyond the others and blossomed open in the moonlight. He took it and cut the stem with the scissors from his belt. He then gave it to the girl with a face of suave satisfaction. He'd really come a long way from breaking a sweat over seedlings.

"For you, _la mia fiore."_

Her face grew pink. "Oh… thank you. But… em… I already have a boyfriend."

Lovino stiffened. Oh, she did, did she? And could he simply point at a flower and make it grow? Did he have such pretty wings? Upon that thought, he lifted and fluttered them a little. They caught the starlight and reflected it like crystal facets glowing wherever the light touched.

"I must be getting home," she said, breaking his useless comparisons.

"I can escort you," he said.

"It's not very far. I can do it myself."

And that was when the city started to scream. The shouts were faint, but Lovino could hear them echoing through faraway streets like sirens. What were they shouting about? If that stupid, greedy human Feliciano was clinging onto had transformed into a beast, he would laugh.

Which brought him back to the point. Flirting was a fun activity, but he really needed to either find those mercenaries his brother had mentioned or get back to Feliciano for more questions. He wasn't going to let anyone off the hook here. If a powerful treasure was at stake, as a member of the House of Roma, he saw himself as having a say in the matter no matter how special the treasure was to the heir. Besides, Feliciano was acting nutso earlier. Why the hell was he so clingy to that stranger anyway? It had to be a dark spell on his mind. Maybe if he could get Feliciano alone again, he could attempt to reason with him. Still, what about the mercenaries who had put other spells on him? It was all so confusing.

He pondered all the information he'd gleaned that morning. His wings twitched in deepening frustration. Feliciano was Roma's little magical heir, but he was also Lovino's little brother, and Lovino wouldn't allow anyone to just mess with his brother like that.

That was his job.

"You can't be out here," someone said in the darkness. " _Tiens!_ You can't be out here!" A poking registered. Lovino looked down at a squat guard shoving his stubby finger into the fairy's chest.

"Can't be out here?"

"A changeling has been sighted in the city. Everyone must take refuge indoors until further information is released. Come along. I will escort you and the lady to a safe place."

"Escort?" No. Huh? What did he just say? A what was seen in the city? A _what?_ A _what!?_ "A changeling?" He asked, his tone perfectly casual and utterly skeptical. "Nonsense. Don't you have a ring of salt around this place? Doesn't it act like a wall to _them?_ And everyone around here's got scissors. There's no changeling. Don't be shitting me." He drew up power from the wine still staining his tongue.

"There is a changeling," the guard said again. "A hideous imp is running around our city. Our incense nullified its ability to disguise itself. You must go inside."

"Are you sure? Really? How could it have gotten in?" He started walking along with the guard and girl. He wrinkled his nose and gestured grandly. There was no way. A changeling? He had warned Felice to wear his scissors, but in a city like this, it was only the smallest precaution. In a place with this many wards, a pair of scissors was a decoration.

"We don't know," said the guard, "and that's what scares us. All we know is that the changeling was seen with another fairy — a wingless one — after it changed into its true form. The wingless fairy said he was beguiled to allow the changeling passage through the salt ring. We don't know how long it's been here or how many people it could've already harmed. Are you alone here? You're an Allegrian fairy?"

It was then that the eeriness of the place settled on Lovino's shoulders. He looked around and saw no one. Where music had played moments earlier, there was silence. Where people sat drinking and laughing, there was darkness and emptiness.

Looking up, he saw pairs of eyes pop up out of the corners of windows. The stars flickered coldly above. Only his footsteps made any sort of noise. Those and the shouting, which was now coming from a few guards running around here and there, passing messages and updating each other on a creature seen. A creature which was becoming a clear and agreed-upon image among them. Very pale and thin, white hair, deep blue eyes, a star on its nose… a blue waistcoat? It was wearing a blue waistcoat? Well, that was strange, but the repetition of the story started to penetrate through Lovino's skepticism. Slowly, he felt as though he were being lifted from a pool of dreams.

This wasn't a dream, was it? Lovino furtively hummed a note and focused his gaze on the flower in the girl's hand. It didn't grow any larger. So he wasn't a music caster, then. He tried pushing two fingers on one hand through the other. Solid flesh. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself as a child again. When he opened them, the ground was no closer and his skin no softer. This was not a dream.

And if this were not a dream, these people were serious, and a freaking changeling was somewhere in the city.

"There's really a changeling?"

" _Oui."_

"But… but… my brother is here in the city. My brother Feliciano! My little brother! He's — he's been targeted before!"

"Your brother will have taken refuge."

"But you don't know that! He's got some curse on him! If he sees a changeling, he can't move! I have to find him!" His wings lifted as if hearing their cue. "Please, my brother is the heir to my House!"

"Your safety is what's important now that we've found you. We can't have people running around. Creatures of the dark are said to have persuasive powers. You could become beguiled yourself. Come, we are close to a rendezvous with other stragglers."

"I'm pretty sure I can take on a changeling better than it could beguile me, and I know my own brother. If something wore his shape, I'd know it wasn't him. I can't stay inside. I need to know where Feliciano is."

He wanted to stay inside, though. Lovino shivered. What if he did fall prey to persuasion? What if the creature's powers hadn't been nullified? What if it was only fooling them? And what about those folktales? Would he die if he looked it in the eyes? Did it drink the blood of its victims to contort its gnarled figure into their images?

"Now come on. It's not too far."

But he had to take the chance. He had to. Feliciano couldn't protect himself, and even if he weren't beguiled, he'd be too scared and useless to do anything. Lovino jumped up and let his wings catch the air. He was ten feet above their heads in seconds. He drifted to the side a little and struggled to stay balanced; everything was different in the air. He felt heavier under the gravity he pushed against. His wingbeats had to be equal and precise, or he would wobble and lose his altitude.

But, like he had grown in his magic, he had also grown in aerial maneuvering. Lovino steadied himself and hung suspended at an angle. He chose a direction and started flying, the guard below flummoxed and perturbed. If he protested, Lovino didn't hear him. All of his focus was on wing position and air currents and balance.

It was cold up in the air. Lovino wished he could bring his hands up to warm his shoulders, but at present he held them out to the sides for extra support. The cutting air chilled his eyes. He glided over trees and past buildings and looked down below at the guards rushing past each other, searching for the creature of darkness in their midst. It made him shiver even more. He was being stupid. The guards could find the creature. If if was in the city, they'd find it. Feliciano was safe. He was probably inside somewhere. It was just that Lovino had to check. He had to know that his brother was safe and out of harm's way. Out of any changeling's lust for happiness.

 _Felice…_

"Feliciano!" He began calling for him when the cold got frustrating. His wings were starting to grow completely numb from the wind. It became painful to keep beating them into the icy night. "Felice? Felice, are you there? Felice, _il mio fratello?_ You damn brother! Where are you hiding!? It's so damn cold, I'm freezing my _balls_ off!"

It was more than once he was yelled at to come down. Some were less friendly than others. He was shot at once by an archer on a rooftop. It seemed a conclusion had been made that Lovino was the changeling, and he was keeping in the air to stay away from the guards. He'd very unkindly flashed the archer an indecent sign and gripped his scissors in his hands.

The archer didn't know where Feliciano was, nor did anyone he spoke with or wrestled for the right to search with, though one had given him the favorable news that she'd seen him earlier near the fountain. Lovino flew there immediately. He alighted on the stone basin's rim to rest for a few minutes before continuing on foot. Those were the scariest moments. He had to keep hovering every once in awhile just in case anything decided to jump out at him from the shadows. He gripped the scissors tightly in his hand and bit his lip. "I have what you hate," he told the darkness again and again. _Stay away, monsters, imps, hideous freaks. You can't steal my shape, and if you'd like to test me on that, I'll make you the center of a rose bouquet._

Despite this, he was only a block past the fountain when he was seized by guards, tested with scissors, and then brought forcefully to a townhouse acting as a shelter for the night.

"I'm not staying here! Feliciano isn't safe! I need to find him!"

"Not tonight," he was warned by the sentinel. "You stay here tonight."

"I will _not_ stay here tonight! I need to find my brother!"

" _Oui,_ and so do a lot of other people who were separated from their family members. Everyone must remain inside. That is protocol."

His protest was silenced, yet Lovino was stubborn. He sat on a couch near the door and held his face in his hands in exasperation. The slightest noise would pique his interest. He glanced out the front window in earnest to perhaps see a flash of gold. The others shared his pain. He wanted to tell them, but a respectful silence had fallen among them to hide from the excellent ears of changelings.

He did not sleep well that night. He tossed and turned on the floor and was awoken by false sounds of his brother's voice or phantom shrieks of terror. The spicy scent of incense leaked in through the windows and became so strong it was nauseating. His brief periods of sleep were dreamless. It didn't matter anyway. His turbulent thoughts when awake were enough to satisfy any longing for fantasy. And it didn't seem like anyone else was faring better than he was. Once, when he thought he heard Feliciano's pitiful snivelling from outside, his wings flicked up and prodded a man in the back, who groaned in annoyance.

And in the morning, when his tiredness and frustration had built to a peak, Lovino started to twist his sentences into grotesque figures with curse words sprouting like weeds in every other sentence. He cursed the world. He cursed the sentinel who wouldn't let them out. He cursed changelings and humans and demons and fairies with and without wings and phookas and fairlings and the very soil of the earth beneath him. And then he relented, for to curse the soil was to curse his own way of life and position in it. His head buzzed. The world had come to a screeching halt, and he'd slammed into the wall. It wasn't his stop.

The trumpet blew outside then. He cursed the trumpet. How dare it not conform? How dare it not fall silent like everything else in this stupid little game of hide-and-seek? How dare it…

The sentinel left his position. The door was open. Lovino could… escape? Could he? Could he complete his mission he'd started so many wasted hours ago?

He might as well try. Lovino slipped out the door and down the stairs. The door to the outside world was wide open. Dare he? It was dangerous, but dare he?

He dared.

Once up in the air again, Lovino scanned the ground for activity. His gut twisted. They had to have found the creature. All of the guards and knights were streaming from their positions and starting to converge around a single point down in a more commercial area. At least _it_ was being taken care of. If they could handle _it,_ it was the end of this whole experience. All Lovino had to do was find his brother and confirm he was safe. He started to fly in the opposite direction toward Feliciano's hotel, but a conversation down below made him stop. He could speak a little of Amotoile's language. The voices mingled frantically. Curious he followed in their direction. Information on the creature might be good. Then he could know if it had tried to attack anyone.

"Completely cornered?"

"Yes, down near the Iris Garden. Carried in the arms of a demon."

"A demon?"

"A snow demon. The damn thing believes he caught the changeling and is now responsible for it."

"Don't curse demons!"

"I'll curse them if I want! Lady Lucille arrived last night and is speaking with the creature."

"Speak with it? How can she speak with it? You can't reason with those things."

"She's going to try, and she's a fool for thinking she can. I wouldn't worry, though. By the time she arrived at the scene, the best of us had gathered around her. That's why we need backup. If even they can't put a stop to the demon — what the _hell!?"_

That was when the blizzard formed out of nowhere, spiraling up into the sky like a hungry maelstrom of air. The temperature dropped degrees a second. Up in the space it filled, Lovino shivered madly. A _snow_ demon. A snow demon carrying a changeling. Why were those two creatures so familiar to him? He quickly dove down to escape the chill, but a sudden updraft caught his wings and pushed him forcefully upward into the spreading cold.

Lovino clutched his chest. In a risky move, he folded his wings in and down before plummeting toward the earth. Before he could hit the ground, he opened them again and whizzed them at breakneck speed. He was so close that his fingernails scraped along the ground. He narrowly avoided colliding with a window head-on. Lovino was not a speedster. His reaction time had not been trained. Neither were his aerial planning skills because he'd just started flying in quite the wrong direction.

The air grew even colder around him. His wings started numbing again. Snow blew from the blanched heavens. It pelted him in the face and blurred his vision. Which way was up? And was it safe to go up? Was it even safe to slow down? He turned again and again, his wings straining against the weather. Damn everything! He was supposed to find Feliciano, and what happened?

"It's so cold, dammit!" Lovino cried.

"It's so cold, dammit!" Someone echoed. "Stop! Stop touching me! I'll try to hold on, but I can't if my legs are numb!"

 _Legs?_ Lovino thought. _Whose legs are numb?_ With the blizzard mysteriously dissipating, he cautiously pushed his wings up against the air and slowed. The sunlight was heavenly. He fluttered slowly out into the open in the direction of the voice. If people were here, maybe he could get some help getting back to that hotel and finding Feliciano.

"Can it, Alfred," another voice said. "Just accept it. You wanted to be up there, and you're safer up there anyway."

"I could carry you under my arm if you would like, or in two arms like earlier."

"No. No way! Not cradling! That was horrible!"

"Well, would you rather run, or would you prefer to be carried and thus protected?"

"You try sitting up here."

"Not in this lifetime, Alfred."

"See? You don't want to, so why make _me_ suffer?"

"You could call it my way of biting you back."

"Oh, I am _so_ done with you bringing that up."

"It's not much different than you inquiring me on the reason for my arrest."

Ducking behind a thick tree, Lovino scouted those whom the voices came from. It was perhaps the strangest ensemble he could've imagined. He'd sworn he'd heard three voices, but there were only two people. Two men. Two… men? Could a man be that tall? And… he had two little horns sprouting from his forehead.

"It's a demon," Lovino whispered. "It's a demon. A _snow_ demon. And if it's a snow demon, and the snow demon earlier was carrying the —" He looked again. The creature on the demon's shoulders was far from human and equally far from its light-magic cousins. So that was… a changeling. Lovino's world slowed. That was it. That was the creature everyone in the world feared above all else. That was the hideous creature that stole away infants in the night. That was the creature that took Feliciano's form. And if he could remember correctly from what Feliciano had told him, it seemed that creature had also been traveling with a demon.

In an irrational bout of ire brought about by his terror, he leapt out from behind the tree, wings twitching, eyes flaming and voice ready. "Hey!" He roared. "Hey, you ugly bastard! Did you swap y—"

When he started yelling, the demon glanced over. His hands and horns glowed a vicious white, and he thrust one hand out toward Lovino. A frigid force threw him back up and over a garden wall. He hit his head hard on the grassy ground and moaned. His body was freezing. His wings were numb and achy again. Something wasn't right.

Then there was only silence, blackness, and a sound like the tinny shifting of broken glass.

* * *

That was what he remembered before waking up in this bed. Where then, was this bed? And as he was slowly becoming aware of himself, why was he so sore? Why did his head hurt? Obviously, he'd been thrown into the ground by a demon's icy magic. Had he lost consciousness? And for how long? How many days ago was that?

"Holy balls, what happened?" He asked aloud.

"Lovino?" A small voice said. "Oh, Lovino, _Lovino!_ You're awake!" He recognized that voice. It was high-pitched and musical. Feliciano stormed into the room and threw his arms around his brother. The younger trembled. His body was covered in a cold sweat.

"Yes, I'm awake. What the hell happened, though?"

Feliciano didn't listen. When he pulled back, Lovino saw that his face was a total wreck. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his auburn hair was tousled completely out of control.

"I-I tried," he sobbed. "I-I-I t-tried to mend it, but there were…"

"There were what? Spit it out! What were you trying to mend?"

"Too many pieces," the younger sputtered. "And they were all splintered and frosted over, and I couldn't do anything to put them back together, and I couldn't regrow it. I tried, but it was too damaged, and I'm not sure you can regrow that sort of thing even with magic. Especially when only part of it's gone. And, and even if you can, I'm not a trained healer, and—"

"Feliciano! What were you trying to mend!?"

"I can't show you. I can't. I don't want you to see it."

"Well, I want to see it so you'll stop your damn crying! Felice, what are you so upset about?"

"It's…" Feliciano started. "L-lovino, stand up."

He brought the blankets slowly away and stood. Okay, something definitely didn't feel right. It was like his balance had shifted too far to the left. His eyes widened. Something was wrong with _him._

"Lovi, look over your shoulder. The right one."

He slowly looked back. His throat clenched.

The larger right wing was missing its lower half. The end was jagged and edged with what looked like frost. In what remained, the green had darkened considerably. Where the wing met his back was swollen and red. He flexed the muscle and found that it ached when he folded the damaged wing up.

"It… shattered," he stuttered. "The demon's magic… froze it…"

Feliciano hugged his brother again. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

 **~N~**

 **In this world, a phooka or halfling is the child of a disguised changeling and a human. Phookas have shapeshifting abilities, but they are often limited and/or can be painful to use. Because of this, and because they are born with human shapes, (and born naturally,) they are generally more accepted by society than their magical parents.**

 **A fairling on the other hand is the child of a human and light fairy, and magical abilities appear or don't appear depending on whether the child is raised by humans or fairies.**

No grazie, Io non bevo il vino. Voi bevete: No thank you, I don't drink wine. You drink.

La mia fiore: My flower

Il mio fratello: My brother

Le ragazze: Girls

Tiens! Hey!

L'uva: Grapes


	34. Wings of Green, Pt 2

" _Felice,"_

" _Yes?"_

" _Felice, I'm going to run away. I don't want to, but I can't stay here."_

" _Huh? Where are you going? Why do you want to run away?"_

" _I can't tell you."_

" _Why not? I'll come with you."_

" _No, Felice, you can't come with me. I don't even know where I'm going, but I have to."_

" _Did you tell Herr Edelstei_ —"

" _No! And don't you tell him!"_

" _But I don't want you to go. I'll miss you. Please tell me why."_

The other lunged forward and grabbed Feliciano's shoulders, shaking him and yelling at him. His body jolted, and his eyes snapped open. He blinked in the sudden darkness, but froze when he realized the firm hands were still clutching him. The fairy looked over and saw what appeared to be Death itself, its body covered by immense black folds and its ghastly face obscured in shadow. Beside it stood, or rather, floated, an undead spirit, glowing in the night with a blank and beckoning expression.

"Aaah! No! Don't take me away! I'm too young to die! And too pretty! I have relatives in Scintillatia, and my family wanted me to go to Deepishmond! I'm sorry I didn't apply, but I _hate_ the food on the Isle of Rain! The scones are so bland, and they stick in your mouth like cement!"

"Will you calm down? It's me! It's Ludwig!"

"Doggie? You're Death? You've already got a soul with you tonight?"

" _Scheiße,_ Feliciano, you have a window in your room. If I don't wear this, I'll transform. It's just my night cloak. And that's Kiku."

Feliciano started to recognize the cloaked figure and his departed companion. His heart still pounded, but he steadied his breathing and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. His wings quivered.

"Did I scare you?" Kiku asked. "I must apologize."

"N-no. I just thought you, eh, Doggie looked like Death, and Kiku, you're dead, so..."

"What are you _not_ afraid of?" Ludwig muttered partly to himself. "Well, we've got some news for you that might scare you even more. It's about your brother. You might want to sit up for this."

"What is it? It's so late. What time is it anyway?"

"Two or three in the morning. I couldn't get a good look at the clock with my hood on."

"The little stick was pointing to the three, and the larger stick was pointing to a notch in between the one and the two," said Kiku.

"After three, then," said Ludwig.

"After three! That's the most dangerous time!" Feliciano squealed. "That's when _they_ come out. The monsters and witches and the evil you-know-whats! I've got my scissors on my nightstand, see?"

"Very good, Feliciano, but you're going to need to get up and face whatever irrational fears you have. Like I said, it's about your brother Lovino. He was found lying in someone's garden across town in very bad shape. It's believed he was attacked by that demon. The one who delivered the changeling out of the city."

"Lovi? Attacked!?"

"His wings are cracked. Well, two are cracked, and a third was broken. It looks like ice damage. That's what I was told."

Feliciano looked pensively up into Ludwig's blue stare and fidgeted with his hands. _It can't be true,_ he thought to himself. _Doggie's messing with me. Or I must still be dreaming. The one I was dreaming about looked a bit like Doggie. Am I drunk? I don't think I'm drunk. That wine was tasty earlier. It went great with pasta. Nice, fancy wine. That pasta was so good…_

"Feliciano," Ludwig said, "you're staring. Now, I know it's late, but you have to go see your brother and help. They would've brought him to you, but they don't want to move him, lest they further damage his wings. The man downstairs is the gardener who found him. He wants to know what you can do."

The fairy nodded slowly. He still didn't entirely believe it. Lovino often picked fights, but would he really try and stand up to a demon? He had a hard shell, but was really just as terrified of demons and changelings as his younger brother. Perhaps he hadn't picked a fight at all. He'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he'd been in the path of all those injured guards when the demon had supposedly rampaged out of the city in the morning carrying the monster.

That monster.

The monster called Alfred. The one who'd tricked him and stolen his shape. The one who'd acted so friendly toward him and yet was only wearing a mask and a story. An illusion of a man who was really nothing more than pure ugliness.

He shook his head. Spite wasn't a healthy feeling in the middle of the night, and Feliciano was more of the wine connoisseur than the revenge-seeker. Still, he'd felt so heartbroken when he'd found out his new friend wasn't really who he said he was. It had seeped into and mixed so much with the other ill feelings that his wings had dimmed and wilted, and that was never a good sign for a fairy's emotions. A good date and dinner did cheer him up a little, but it still didn't seem like enough. He felt vulnerable and gullible and stupid.

Feliciano felt as if he really could be beguiled and led astray, and that was really what scared him.

"Let's go," he yawned. After slipping on some decent clothes and taking his lute, he followed Ludwig and Kiku down to where the distressed gardener was waiting, and from there, just he and the gardener traveled a good many blocks to where a quaint garden was walled off from the street. They entered it from the house in front. A physician was already present at the scene. He kneeled over a limp body sprawled out in the middle of a grassy patch of earth. It had crushed some lilies, and the grass around it was stained a curious white and thick with tiny crystals of ice.

Feliciano held back his gaze as if readying himself for the dissipation of suspense; however, it wasn't really something he'd ever want to see, and when he finally did take a good look at the body, he threw himself down next to it and begged someone or something to tell him it wasn't true.

It really was his brother lying there on his side. Lovino's wet hair clung to his face. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. His form was twisted like he'd been thrown and instantly blacked out. Luckily, no limbs were bent funny or mangled. No arms or legs anyway; it was the wings which were really an unhappy sight. His shirt had been cut away some so the muscle could be seen. The flesh was swollen around the bases. In all four, the dark green color was glazed over with condensation while frost and ice collected at their tips. Two — the larger and smaller left — had thin, light lines grazing their surfaces. Cracks from the cold. The larger right one was a sorry vision, and one so unreal Feliciano had to keep blinking when he saw it. He pinched himself and wondered how much wine he had drunk. But it was no use. This was all real.

The wing — what was left of it — was almost completely crusted over with frost. It ended in a jagged fissure in the middle, (at this point wrapped with a damp towel,) and the rest looked almost identical to shattered glass. The myriad broken shards were icy and fragile. They lay around the wing and Lovino's body like pieces in a mosaic. Cautiously, Feliciano took one and picked it up. It was freezing to the touch and had ice clinging to its sharp points, but it had the same texture of his own wings when he stroked them. He dropped it and scrunched his nose.

"This is your brother?" The physician asked.

Feliciano affirmed this. His own body felt like it was submerged in some viscid substance that restricted his movements. He felt his heart thudding in his chest. He looked at Lovino's oblivious face. Lovino was completely unaware he was lying like this. He was totally in the dark about his cracked and broken wings. It was horrible, Feliciano thought. What had he done? Why had this happened? When would he wake up and discover he'd never… never fly again?

"Good you're here," the physician broke the silence. "I understand you melted some ice earlier today with a spell. Your brother wasn't found until late this evening. This ice is peculiar. It doesn't melt as quickly as normal ice. Demons are elementals. It seems their magic can create even purer things than exist in nature. His wings are so fragile now, I don't want to move him. You, on the other hand, can try and thaw some of it so it's safer to try and get him to a better place for healing. Of what I know, the cracked ones might be able to mend on their own. The other one... "

Feliciano didn't want to think about it. "You want me to thaw his wings?"

"Now, you'll have to be extremely gentle. It's not like earlier today. It's thin frost. If they warm too fast, the cracks will get bigger and put them at greater risk for breaking. I've been using some damp towels to warm them a bit. They were much worse earlier. More white than green."

"Okay… okay," he stammered. "Thank you."

The next few minutes were painful. The physician took care in bringing away the towel from the broken wing. Its wicked edges were sharp and white with frost. The tiniest amount of blood dyed some of the crystals. Feliciano winced. His stomach turned at the sight. This wasn't just any victim of a demon attack. It was his own brother.

He started with the less-damaged ones. Feliciano pushed up his sleeves and shivered in the cooling air. He gingerly took the large left wing in his hands. He pulled it upward with his left and placed his right on its frosty surface.

He hummed a few notes experimentally, then some fragments of melodies he knew well. When he'd settled on what he knew to be a G, he looked down at the wing and sucked in a deep breath. His hand was growing numb. He opened his mouth. His throat gave a nervous squeak. He swallowed and tried again. This time, the note came out softly and lilting. Feliciano went on to the next one and the next, and he outstretched his fingers on the wing.

He let his hand glide over the icy surface. It grew warm and itchy under the energy he conjured with his voice. His chest, in turn, grew warm with the pleasure of magic. His heart slowed to normal, and his breathing became even and relaxed. He drew in breath for each new phrase of the song, yet he was careful when he released it. His voice was a steady _pianissimo_ which wavered only when he let the sight of the wings reach his perception. Feli's heat spell was a grand affair — something of a march — but in proportion to the task he made it sound like a quiet sonata. A lone soloist sighing out the notes earnestly yet tenderly.

And as he sang, the ice began to liquify. He brought both of his hands over the wings, all four of them, and there came the hopeful sound of water dripping off their edges and running down into the grass. Feliciano's hands were wet. The fabric of his pants was soaking through. He continued singing and singing, his song changing into a rondo with a recurring theme of warmth and water. It made him think of a beach. Floating in the salty waters while the summer sun streamed down to kiss his skin and wings. _Cinquantamila estate. Buona estate._

"They look thawed enough," the physician interrupted.

Feliciano, not yet satisfied, gripped the broken wing in both hands and brought his song into a resolved _fine._ He closed his eyes and was still.

Towels were then again used to dry off the wings. They were now their natural color of deep greenish-brown, except for the broken one, which was still edged with the stubborn magic frost. The cracks, though still present, had lessened to a degree.

"I have to fix them now," Feliciano murmured. "I will heal them. I have to."

"Do you think you could repair the cracks?"

"I want to mend his wings. All of them," came the reply. "It's not fair. Lovi's a fairy. He should be able to fly."

"I'm afraid he may never fly again."

"But he _has_ to." Something else was wet, then — his eyes. Feliciano sniffled. It must've been the song, he thought. His gift had always been partial to amplifying emotions. A song of pure happiness had been his first contribution to the world, and that was why he was called Feliciano. Now, however, a surge of emotion wasn't helping at all. It was scaring him. He was again realizing the severity of the situation. He shuddered and wiped the tears away.

He took his lute and started singing again, though his voice shook with waves of fear and denial. " _Ease the pain. Make it whole."_

He kept up with it for several minutes. The same phrases. The same melody repeating itself, chasing itself like a mantra. He heard the wings creak and snap as the cracks retreated. The pale lines shortened and melted back into the green. Capillaries knitted together. A fresh green coating of fairy dust formed on the surface. The flesh under the left wings drained of its angry red, and the swelling rippled down into a healthy bulge.

Even the broken wing's vestige healed, but its color was darker, and the swelling didn't go down as much. The injury was winning over his magic. He'd need a stronger spell. Maybe if he could try and put it back together…

He started picking up shards in the grass. They stung his hands, but he snatched them out of their resting places and shoved them into his pockets. He collected as many as he could find, but it seemed there were always more hiding under bent-over blades or inside flowers or all the way across the yard. And the shards were often tiny and cracked themselves. Feliciano despaired.

Nonetheless, Lovino was in shape to be transported, so he was brought into the gardener's house and laid in a bed on his side. He slept on all throughout the night while Feliciano despaired and despaired. The younger searched and searched for all the pieces. He used his summoning song and found legion, some shattered into shards so small they embedded in his fingers like real glass. He tried spells to fix them. He tried manipulating them to cling and merge into their former places. He tried growing and stretching the half-wing.

But it was all for naught. He simply didn't have the power, and there were simply too many pieces.

When he heard his brother's voice in the morning, he shot up and burst into the room. There was Lovi awake and alive and crippled. And Lovino didn't even know something was wrong. His ignorance of the whole affair lasted up until the point when Feliciano told him to look over his shoulder and realize his fate.

"It… shattered. The demon's magic… froze it."

"I'm so sorry."

"I…" In this time, Lovino was at a loss for words. "I… it… I remember…"

"What do you remember? What happened? Why were you attacked? Why did the demon freeze your wings?"

"Be quiet! I'm trying to think! Ugh, my back hurts so much."

"I can ease it."

"I can relieve my own pain! Shut up! Just shut up!"

"Lovi…"

His brother's voice dropped to a whisper. He sat on the bed and cupped his face in his hands. "My… my wing. I'm a fairy with a broken wing." Even as he uttered it, his wings shivered and drooped a little.

There was a long silence after that. The two brothers sat next to each other. One's face was twisted into despondency, and the other's into disbelief. Lovino did several double-takes back at his wing. He lifted its dark form and reached back to knead at the inflamed muscles beneath. He muttered curses under his breath one after the other. They grew from petty to vile to utterly grotesque in nature. His wings quivered. The broken one twitched.

And finally, after a long and awkward tension, Lovino looked at his brother and said, "We're going back to Allegria. We're going home."

Feliciano nodded. "That's what we were planning."

"Who's _we?"_

"Me and Doggie and Kiku."

Lovino shot up from his position. He stabbed his finger into Feliciano's chest. "No. There is no _we_ as in you and them. There is only _we_ as in you and me. Just us brothers. If you're not related to Roma, you can't come." He gesticulated sourly and tightened his lips.

"I can't just leave them, Lovi. They're my friends, and I have to give Doggie the amulet. We think it's hidden somewhere in the villa."

He shouldn't have said it. Lovino's lips grew tighter and tighter. His eyes narrowed into something dangerous. He lifted his wings. "The amulet? The magic wishing amulet?"

" _Sì,_ that one."

"You think it's hidden in the villa?"

"That's our newest guess."

"So you think it's hidden there, but you came all the way here, and made me come looking for you, and we all got tangled into this big mess, eh? And here we stand. Here we stand, you with your damn sad face and me with half my damn wing broken off. That's where we are, Felice. That is where we are!" His voice seemed to rattle the very walls.

"I'm sorry, Lovi! But I could've never known you'd get hurt! Please tell me what happened!"

"You know what happened. I was attacked by a demon!"

"But why? Why were you attacked?"

"No damn reason. I just started yelling at that disgusting not-a-fairy riding on its shoulders, and it held out its hand, and something really cold hit me like a tomato hits a fool."

"D-disgusting not-a-fairy?"

Lovino's face grew pouty. "It was horrible, Felice. So ugly! It looked like a corpse!"

"The… the changeling," Feliciano whispered. "It's the same one that swapped itself out with me that night. That must have been terrifying!"

"I thought it was the same one, the way you described it. Alfred? It doesn't deserve that name. And that's what happened. I yelled at it, and the damn demon shattered my wing. Now we're both going to Allegria without your 'friends,' and you're going to stay there, and I'm going to sleep like I wanted to this whole time!" His voice wavered.

"We have to bring my friends with."

"That _human_ is not your friend, Felice. He put spells in your head."

"He didn't put spells in my head! That changeling did! Alfred! The mercenaries! They're the ones who put the spells on me!"

"Then why are you so loyal to that human?"

"Because he's my friend, and he doesn't like the mercenaries either. He needs my amulet, Lovi. He needs it, and I agreed to give it to him."

"Yeah, well, you know what? Maybe… maybe someone a little closer needs it too. Maybe someone who isn't a stranger needs to make a wish to repair his damn freaking _wing!"_

Feliciano gave a little gasp. "Ah! Maybe we _could_ use it for that!"

"Maybe? _Maybe?_ I can't _fly,_ Felice! I have a broken wing like some dumbass! Look at me!" And Lovino, usually one to cry in particularly passionate fights, leaked a few tears.

"I'll have to tell Doggie you want that," Feliciano said. "Then maybe he can wish it for you. After all, it's really his amulet. I'm giving it to him because I agreed."

Lovino wound back and punched his brother hard in the chest. He gave a startled squeak as he flew backwards onto the bed. "You did not agree to anything!" The elder cried. "We're going back home! You've got your lute and your scissors. That's all you need. You can make music. You can defend yourself against the plague. Get up. We're leaving."

"But, but these aren't _my_ scissors. I'm just borrowing them from Doggie. Maybe I could give them back and then we could all go together."

"Not to _gether._ Just _two."_ He held up his thumb and forefinger.

"It's not nice to go back on an agreement."

"Eh? Well, I highly doubt you carved your name into a dying tree or signed it in your own blood anywhere."

"That doesn't make it any less of an agreement."

"Ha! That doesn't make it less? Felice, if you didn't sign away your soul, you don't have to do anything anyone tells you."

"Then I don't have to listen to you, and we can go get my friends and bring them home with us."

Lovino went silent. He sent a dark glare to the younger. "Are you trying to boss me around, little brother?"

"I agreed," Feliciano replied, his own voice again starting to quaver. An ember of red smoldered in the gold. "Out of the goodness of my heart, I told Doggie I would give him the amulet."

"You're not yourself. You're beguiled! You can't even understand me!"

"I wish you could just understand _me! Credici,_ Lovino, _credici!"_

Feliciano trembled. He wiped fresh tears from his eyes and stood to face his brother. In truth, he did feel a little… odd. He once again felt the uncertain vertigo usually swirling inside him whenever he thought about the agreement. But why did it have to be odd? It was the truth, after all. He just wished Lovino would understand and consider that maybe Ludwig and Kiku weren't that bad. It was those mercenaries. They were the real problem. If he came along, they could all go home together. Then they would all be safe.

"F-fine! Fine, whatever!" Lovino suddenly burst in a fit of frustration. "If you want to take your friends along, then fine! Give that amulet away! Give it away! Give away the House of Roma's precious heirloom! Let a _stranger_ who doesn't even know our family have it! Let a powerful object made by fairies fall into the hands of greedy humans! I don't care what you decide to do with it! It's yours! But I want my damn wing repaired, and I want to fly!"

"Lovino… are you okay?"

"I just want to go home," Lovino sobbed. "I miss the vineyards. I miss them."

"Do you want the vineyards?"

The elder looked up.

"Do you want them? I can give them to you."

"I couldn't afford them."

"No, I'll give them to you. I'll just buy them from myself and you can sign your name to make them legally yours. You can tend them and grow whatever kinds of grapes you want in them, and I'll let you use them for whatever you want. I'm not a gardener anyway. That's always been your discipline."

"Really? No, I don't deserve it."

"But you're my big brother, and you're Roma's grandson, too."

"Oh, Felice…"

And at some point, in some way or another, they ended up embracing and getting each other's shoulders quite wet. It was an absolute maelstrom of emotions. Joy and sadness and fear and regret and brotherly love all swirled together and strengthened their grips on each other. Feliciano clutched his brother close and tried to comfort him the best he could. The realization of his crippled and grounded fate was a fully open wound now. Lovino _genuinely_ cried — something the younger had not seen him do since childhood.

But there was hope, it seemed. If the amulet could be found, Feliciano promised the wing would be mended. He swore it. Lovino kept cursing whenever the agreement was brought up. ("Fine, give it to him! Let him do whatever damn thing he wants with _your_ inheritance! Go ahead and write your name in blood on his contract! You _agreed_ after all!") But at least he was cooperating for the sake of his own health and sanity. Respite was something he really needed after such a stressful time. Feliciano knew his brother wasn't really so mean. He had a softer, caring inside which was a delicate person who could get hurt like anyone else. Or more like a delicate… plant. A soft tomato plant content to ripen in the sun. _Buona_ _estate._ That was his brother.

Feliciano smiled. He hadn't realized it so clearly before, but his brother was awesome.


	35. Simpler Conclusions

"Don't stare at her chest like that when she's measuring you."

"I wasn't staring! I was _trying_ to be polite and decent!"

"Yeah you were. So wait, which part do you find attractive? Like, the human half or—"

"Both halves. I find both halves attractive, and I don't want to talk about that right now. You're being rude."

"They can't even hear us."

"Alfred, I know it's hard being a hormonal thirteen year-old, but—"

Alfred furrowed his brow. "Who said I was thirteen?"

"Don't try to be funny. You said you were."

He studied his hands, and his blue eyes brightened in wonder. "Wow, really? I don't look thirteen. My youth potion must've worn off and I'm aging into a mature adult again."

Matthew turned away. "I forgot how frustrating you can be sometimes," he muttered to himself. Unfortunately, his brother heard it.

"You got no idea, bro! You don't even know how frustrating I can get. This is barely scratching the surface. I get this weird twitch in my lip when I'm feeling mischievous, see? And then my mind is like rapid-fire coming up with all these funny things to say and do to mess with people. Did I ever tell you the first thing I did to Arts when I saw him? There was this tree I was in, okay? And there was a whole bunch of sand in the cracks between the bark. And down below is this dude in green, his self-awareness getting higher—"

"How did you do it?" Matthew asked. "How did you hide all _this,"_ he gesticulated wildly about Alfred's person, "for six entire years? How did you hide it so well? I have to say, the way we've been talking the last few days, the conversations we've had, we're like strangers. Or, well, you're like a new person to me. You're so different. You even look different. Heck, you can change how you look with _magic."_

"It wasn't too hard to hide my powers when we were younger. I just didn't use 'em."

"It's not just about your _powers,_ Alfred. It's about your very identity. The fact that you pretended to be someone you really weren't, and now you talk about being this and that when as a calf the subject of magic was the one thing that would get you to _stop_ talking. Honestly, how did you hide it?"

"Well, I shifted my shape and my story, and I just went from there, pretty much." He smiled and patted his brother's shoulder. "You really never suspected a thing, did you?"

"I didn't know what a whatsit was. None of us did. For a moment, when we saw you being… burned… and you changed in front of us, we thought that fairy was casting an evil spell on you. We didn't know it was you changing yourself until he took the scissors off your neck and told us you were a shapeshifter. Sure, I thought it was odd that you looked like me, but we could've been distantly-related somehow, and you didn't sound like me, so—"

"Oh, but I did sound like you."

"No, you were always the loud one."

"Because I made myself louder. Mattie, this isn't my natural voice. My natural voice is yours. I can really mimic anyone, but with copying your voice I just spoke softer."

Matthew worked out a fearful little shiver and tried to look modest. "You did, huh?"

" _Like this,"_ Alfred whispered with a bit of an accent he'd long left behind. " _Maple sauce and hom on toost."_

"So that's what it was, then."

"Hm?"

"You know, there were some things I did think were curious about you. The first few weeks you started living with us, your voice kept changing with these forceful little jerks. I thought it was coughing or hiccups, but you were just trying to disguise it, weren't you?

"And another thing. You always told us it was a bear that attacked you and chased you off from wherever you were. Well, when I found you lying there, there was blood around you, but no trail leading to your location. Also, black bears don't usually get that aggressive, and I was surprised you let it clamp down on your leg hard enough to break bone. Then your leg healed super quick. You always recovered fast from injuries. There was a rumor that you were half spirit."

"Nope. Hundred percent fairy."

"Then there was that weird talent, the mimicking. You could mimic any animal you heard like you were one of its kind. You could even deepen your voice to sound like Father and the other bulls. It wasn't just something funny you did either. You would always make some kind of strange noise when you were upset or scared. And you kept telling me weird hunting tips I'd never heard of before. You didn't use bows or traps. You told me you just waited and attacked."

"Well, hey," said Alfred, "I did use fishing poles."

"You did use fishing poles."

"Lotta fishermen around Sunset Country. Did I ever tell you? That was how I learned to speak. A few days listening and mimicking while different boats came ashore and the men had shore-lunch."

"A… few days?"

"It didn't take that long. They talked a lot. Swore about politics and discussed wedding plans and made fun of each other for getting scared of mice in their cabins."

"You learned to speak in a few days."

"How old were you when you said your first words?"

"Maybe a year?"

"Kay, well, I was maybe… three days… wait, no, that woman found me and left me. She talked sometimes… musta been… a week? No, two? No, it wouldn't've been that long. Two days, more like. Come on, Mattie, I told you I was only a baby when you took me in, and I was speaking with full sentences. It wasn't just because of my older form. I really am smart like that."

"My gods, who _are_ you? And what have you done with my brother?" Matthew's eyes were huge.

Alfred shifted a little closer to the disturbed and tousled his silken honey-gold hair. He put on a countenance of consolation, then with utmost sympathy, he whispered, "I ate him."

Matthew jerked. Alfred laughed.

"Are you two done in there yet?" Came the voice of Francis.

"Coming, Francy!" Alfred shouted back. He picked up the reams of fabric he'd chosen and waited for Matthew to do the same. Then, Matthew slung his arm around his brother's shoulders, and they awkwardly made their way back to the drawing room dressed only in drawers.

"You should ask Francy to get you a cane to go with your new outfits."

"A what?"

"It's like an extra leg for old people who can't walk too well… and young, fashionable gentlemen."

"Ah, have you picked some that you like?"

Alfred looked. It was Irunya, Ivan's older sister. He tried not to jump back a little. She'd taken off the hair clips that disguised her. Her skin was icy blue, and her blonde hair had lightened to a humble silver. It parted to make way for her dark horns, which grew from the sides of her head and curled around to the front like a ram's. She, like her brother, was goat-like, with scruffy ears and a prominent nose, but her eyes were a clear and tangible blue like the sky over a field of snow. Both she and Natalya were snow demonesses, but unlike Ivan, their statures were little over six feet, which made them slightly less intimidating.

Natalya's features were severe and pointed, and the sharp horns sprouting from her forehead had frost clinging to their tips. She inspected her fingernails as the twins arrived. She whipped her head up, and her sparkling white hair blew fluidly over her shoulder.

"You have so many fabrics," Matthew commented. "I don't really know what would look good on me, but I like the color red. Is that a good choice? Maybe something with maple leaves on it. Just as long as they're comfortable I'll be okay."

"I'm not a guy with a fashion sense," said Alfred, "and these are probably going to end up ripping anyway when I hunt down that dog-man—"

He was cut off by a stern look from Francis.

"What!? You don't elegantly unbutton and slip off all your layers before getting huge. You gotta rip 'em! Feel the _powa!"_

"How do we measure you?" Natalya said annoyedly. "He looks human enough, but you look like crap. If I focus, I can see your disguise, but if I lose that focus, you're ugly again."

"Wow, thanks," Alfred deadpanned.

"Oh, don't be rude. He's trying to look nice," Irunya told her. "Oh no, did that sound mean? I hope it didn't."

"Forget it," Alfred said. Though he had to admit, it was disturbing to know even changing physically couldn't hide him from everyone. He wondered if any changelings were born in the demon lands. Would an inability to hide and swap benefit them or cause their doom? If they were ignorant of demonsight and hid the insensible bodies of victims, sure, they would be in for it.

The measurements didn't take long, however complicated. Francis helped a bit with measuring Alfred to be accurate for his preferred form. They held out their arms and legs for each new figure of their figures. Alfred kept wiggling to flash poses and puff out his muscular chest. He slipped off his glasses, gripping one arm of them between his teeth while holding out his armspan.

"I don't really see why you need to measure me," he laughed when they were finished. "Mattie and I are the same, after all."

"Well, I'm human, and you're a fairy," Matthew said softly. "There's gotta be some difference there besides ears, right?"

"Not much, I think. Fairies are lighter, and they're supposed to have really tiny feet, but a lot of this form is based on humans, so I couldn't tell you if there's a difference between us."

"Eh? You know what feet are? You have them too?"

"Uh, yeah. Everyone has feet. You even saw mine this morning."

"So you've always had feet and not hooves?"

"Dude, you think humans have hooves? Why are boots shaped like they are, then?"

"I don't know. A fashion statement? They stuff them?"

Neither one of them saw Irunya and Natalya flash each other humored looks.

Alfred sniggered. "You're so weird."

"Actually, there are some differences between the two of you," Irunya said. "They're small, but your builds do differ. Alfred is just a tiny bit thicker around the middle—"

"I am _not,"_ the thicker proclaimed. "Francy, don't measure me half-assed."

"I measured you with precision," Francis defended.

"Well, 'kay, fine, I'll change it. Mattie, let me see you. I'll make us equal."

"They already measured you," Matthew protested. "Really, thick doesn't have to mean fat. You've got some definition there. And my upper half didn't change much when I drank the potion, and Homoalces are naturally a little firmer since our lower bodies are so strong."

"I don't want it to be noticeable. We have to be twins. That'll be our story."

"We're both fit. It won't be noticeable."

"How do you know? You keep asking me what all these clothes even are. Come on, just let me get a fresh take on your shape. I won't make my hair soft like yours or my eyes purple, I promise. I'll be careful."

"No, you can't do that!" Matthew burst out. "You look fine."

"Geez, what is with you guys and your shapes?" Alfred muttered, "first Arts, now you."

Matthew's voice descended. "You have your own shape, okay? It looks nice. Just use that for your new clothes."

"Make 'em smaller, and I'll fix my size in post," Alfred murmured, chewing on his lip.

* * *

 _Is this how I look at night?_ Ludwig pondered as he stared into the eyes of the dangerous creature before him. They burned unceasingly into him with utter fierceness, and the creature's body tensed when he blinked. The magically-charged curl of hair twitched.

"Let me talk to him again," Lovino growled.

Ludwig sighed. "He stayed up all night worrying about you. The least you can do is give him respect and let him sleep."

The fairy puffed out his cheeks. "He can sleep when it's nighttime."

"It sounds like you got to sleep all day and all night, so you should let him rest too. He's had trouble sleeping for a while now anyway. Any rest he can get will benefit him."

Lovino stepped back. His wings folded even further down. "You're really playing with fire here," he hissed. "You don't want to piss off a man with magic. Insulting his wings is far along on those lines."

"I didn't insult your wings. I said you got more rest than Feliciano."

"Because of what happened to my wings."

 _He's impossible,_ Ludwig thought.

By this time, Lovino was across the room, and he had something vast and flowing in his hands. It was the night cloak. After examining it, he angled his eyes almost sadly and threw it around him, clasping it shut over his chest. It buried him like a curtain had fallen around his slender frame. He then brushed past Ludwig and stood again at the door to Feliciano's room. He raised his hand to turn the handle.

"Let him sleep," Ludwig said. "And you didn't ask before you could wear that."

"You didn't ask before you could beguile my brother," Lovino riposted. He stiffened his hand and bit it.

"I didn't beguile him. I don't have any magic."

"Right, but Felice tells me you have a wand."

"A useless wand that doesn't do anything unless we have the amulet. Besides, I don't know how to use a wand."

"Really? And you never experimented? You never just once waved it around and chanted some fancy words and accidentally turned my brother into your magic slave?"

"I don't know what I have to do to get you to understand, but I don't have a single drop of magic blood in my body, and I don't know how to use wands."

"And that's why you want this amulet, eh? So you can fulfill your foolish mortal desires?"

"Now Lovino, I think we both know you're not immortal either."

"I'll tell you when you can call me by name," Lovino snapped. Then he slipped into a looser, haughtier pose like a blue-clad poet. "And no, I may not be immortal, but I can't get sick; I heal faster than you; I'm lighter, quicker, and more agile; and I can use magic. Hear that? I can use magic. Fantastic energy sparking in my chest is my birthright. You, on the other hand, have no such right. And I mean sure, Feliciano promised to give you his amulet, and I say _let him._ You'd just embarrass yourself in front of all the fairies of the world. Every human who's ever used a wand to turn his energy into magic looks foolish in our eyes."

"A human cursed me, and I'll use that wand to get rid of the curse."

"Psh, another _human_ cursed you? You really are a sorry human being."

"It was Wizard Basch," Ludwig said.

"Never heard of him. He must not be too famous. Probably just a hedgewitch who opens books he's not supposed to in his spare time."

"Wizard Basch curses anyone who comes near his castle. Mostly they fall into enchanted sleep forever, but do you know what he did to me for accidentally trespassing? He made me a dog-man. Every night, when starlight touches me, I transform into a monster. And it hurts like _scheiße._ Pain I can't stop and emotions I can't control weighing on me every night for five years now. You say I deserve it? He'd do the same to you in a heartbeat. He's human, Lovino. He's human, and he uses powerful and terrible magic."

Lovino looked at him quizzically. A muscle twitched in his cheek. "He must have fairy blood. A fairling or some percentage of one," he muttered.

"I don't think so," Ludwig said. He crossed his arms and stared at the wall. Thinking about his curse made him contemplative.

* * *

"You have to do something, Gilbert!"

"I'm trying, Lud, I'm trying," the changeling replied sadly.

The two brothers had never seen each other so full of emotion. Already an entire shelf of books had been thrown angrily across the floor. Quills were broken and ink spilled all over the desk and sheets on the bed. Glass shards were wedged in the floor where treasures had been smashed. Portraits were knocked askew. The painting of Ludwig sitting on Wilhelm's lap, which had always been marked by a slash through the elder's face, was now ripped right down the middle and lying below where it usually hung.

It was morning now — the third after Ludwig had first come home in his twisted new form. Gilbert sat at the writing desk poring over ancient, decaying texts. His red eyes were bloodshot purple, and his ill frame was as haggard as an animate cadaver. His withered hands shook as he turned the pages and stared into the ink. Across the room, Ludwig paced and kicked the already-rejected books into the wall. He growled, then fearfully whined and clutched his wrist, afraid he was changing again.

"You have to do something!" He repeated louder and more irritated than before.

"That's what I'm doing," Gilbert snapped. "Be patient."

"I want you to kill Basch!"

Gilbert looked up at his brother. His blue eyes burned with despair and his teeth clenched painfully tight. He opened his mouth again, but Gilbert held up a hand.

"I can't kill him," he said. "I can't get past that barrier."

"Then find a way! Can't you transform into something that can get past it?"

"Barriers sense magic, not form. I can't change the magic I have."

"W-well, _I_ can't kill him! You have to! You're the dark wizard Gilbert!"

"Not anymore," Gilbert said. "I'll never do anything deserving me of that title ever again. The thought makes me sick, and I was already born dying."

"What do you mean never again? You _are_ a dark wizard, aren't you? Do something evil! Avenge me! Even if you can't or won't kill him, you have to make him take this curse off me! Curse him, Gilbert! Make him pay! Make him take it back!"

"I would try, Ludwig! I would curse Basch into the ground! But I can't get past the barrier! And as awesome as I am, I don't want to run the risk of you having no one to love you and take care of you."

Ludwig marched over and gripped his brother's shoulders, which were like canvas frames stretched over with thin cloth. "But you have to do something. I don't want to be cursed anymore. It hurts. I don't like to transform. I don't care what I told you when I was younger about wanting to have magic like yours. I hate it, and I never want to transform again. Please. Do something. Find a way."

Gilbert sighed and returned his gaze to the text. "I've been reading about wolf-men. You're not a wolf-man, but your curse is similar. You change at night."

"It's the starlight," Ludwig urged. "It's cold, and I can feel it reaching into me and pulling and stretching me."

"Starlight. Starlight, and you change into a dog." Gilbert scratched fissures into the wood with his claws. "Damn it, Basch, why did you have to mess with me!?" The piercing screech of an eagle surged forth from his throat and echoed around and around the room. Breathless, he sat down again and clutched at his chest. "I swore," he exhaled. "I swore when you were left on my doorstep that I would take care of you and I wouldn't let anything happen to you. I would raise you. I would love you. And I let you get cursed by a _human!"_

"It's not your fault," Ludwig said. "But you have to do something. You're a fairy. You have magic."

Gilbert reached a hand up and ran his fingers through Ludwig's frazzled blond hair. "I will try," he said. "I've been trying to figure it out myself."

"What did you read about wolf-men?"

"You can't cure a wolf-man's curse, but you can make a potion that can actually reduce the pain of cursed transformations — something that would usually be impossible even with magic. We have changeling blood already. Wow, changeling blood? This book is old. I wonder if anyone else knows this potion exists. Just a treat for us."

"Keep going. Can you make it? It will be good, but you should still make Basch take the curse away."

After a bit of frantic flipping and studying, Gilbert nodded. "I could make it. Ah, wait, there is one ingredient I don't have. It's a flower… Lud, get me the reference book on magical plants. Third shelf downstairs."

Ludwig returned with it almost immediately, and Gilbert rushed to find a match with the ancient tome.

"The Slipper of Selene," Gilbert read aloud. "That's what it is. The one thing I don't have is a wussy flower."

"Then you need to find it. Where does it grow?"

Gilbert skimmed the paragraphs opposite a picture of a flower looking curiously like a slipper with three large white petals emerging from its heel. The petals dripped with sparkling dew, and the flower itself was drawn to look shimmery.

Gilbert froze. His entire form seized up, and he stared at the page. "It grows in uncharted woods west of Scintillatia."

"West of Scintillatia? Where's Scintillatia?"

"This book is very old," said Gilbert. "See the map here. I think Scintillatia has gotten a little bigger since this time. Northern Scintillatia, I guess. That's where it grows. It grows across the Great Sea."

"Then you have to go across the Great Sea and get it."

* * *

There had been some arguing and protest on both sides, but Gilbert had eventually gone to Scintillatia provoked by his own guilty conscience. He brought back some slippers and made the potion, but its effects were as Gilbert had said — only to reduce the pain.

Ludwig had to admit that at least reducing it had brought him some solace. Even though it still hurt, he didn't faint or become short of breath or feel as if he were dying after transforming anymore. He only felt tired. And with that mere tiredness came a sense of sanity. Gradually he stopped yelling at Gilbert to do something. Gradually he stopped breaking things out of frustration. He was still livid at Basch, but he kept a sense of hope that something would happen eventually. One day, he would be free of his damnation.

Perhaps by finding a magic amulet that could grant wishes.

And a _generous_ fairy who would give it to him.

"What are you thinking about?" Lovino asked.

"Just reminiscing."

" _Tsk,_ your angsty teenage tragedy is probably dull."

"What about yours?"

"I had to live with and work for a magic bastard every summer. Oh wait, I still do." His wings twitched, causing the cloak to rise and fall a little bit.

"And I'm still cursed."

"Heh, you haven't been cursed your whole life," Lovino said.

"I've been cursed enough for two lifetimes."

"That's not what I meant," Lovino replied sourly. He angled his gaze at the floor.

"Whatever you meant, I still don't think you understand."

" _Lud, go outside."_

" _What do you mean?"_

" _There are people out there. Stupid kids probably, or thrillseekers wanting to get a glimpse of what I look like. Go scare them off."_

" _Gilbert, I'm not a monster. I'm not going to be some beastly guardian of Piyo Fortress. Besides, it's cold out there even with all this fur."_

" _Come on, just for fun. Just for tonight. It'll spread rumors. The dark wizard Gilbert has come to own a wild dog fiend and trained it to do his awesome evil bidding."_

" _When you say it like that and call me an 'it,' it makes me want to do something fiendish to_ you."

"Ja, _just go and use that anger on whoever's out there."_

" _Brother, I really wouldn't mess with me right now. You know how I feel different when I'm like this. My temper is too short to play games with. I don't want to hurt you, so drop it."_

" _Can you just stick your head out the window and bark at them? No, wait, that might be cute and not scary. Like I have a pet."_

" _So that's what I am now? A pet? A pet!?"_

" _No, it just looks like you're my pet. But you're really my brother."_

 _"But that's what they'll all see me as! Your mindless, savage pet! The dark wizard's_ pet _that does his bidding!"_

Then he remembered what Gilbert had said before he'd left to go find Feliciano.

" _Your curse only makes me more intimidating. One could almost say I cursed you myself. We are equals as brothers and as monsters."_

Ludwig wrung his hands. Neither one of them was really a monster. They had both been cursed with ill fate, and the world made of them what it saw. Gilbert with his cadaverous body and freakish powers, and Ludwig with his godforsaken curse. A dark fairy and human disguised to the world as a notorious wizard and his loyal beast.

But no matter what, Ludwig would not be a monster forever! He had found the kind and noble fairy, he had fought and evaded mercenaries, and soon, he hoped, he would possess the end to his problems. _Soon,_ he thought, _soon I'll open the doors of Piyo Fortress and walk outside at night, and the most I'll feel is cold. Cold air on my skin and cold beer pouring down my throat._ Ja, _that sounds nice._

* * *

There came a humble knock.

"Come in," said Arthur.

The door opened softly. "Good evening, milord." Also softer. A respectful, non-intrusive timbre.

Arthur turned. Perhaps he really had instilled some maturity into that silly boy. He was surprised. Just that morning he'd been a rambunctious scoundrel. It was said that changelings adapted frighteningly fast to new parameters. Was it an act, or had he really changed? It was probably safe to assume the former. It was hard to believe that any trust for a changeling could reach a firm asymptote.

"What do you need?" The lord asked.

"I just wanted to chat for a bit," the blond replied. He smiled sheepishly and clutched the door frame.

"About what?" _My my,_ thought Arthur. _He's got something up his sleeve._

"I don't know. I might as well jump right into it. Well, you haven't known my brother for that long, but I was wondering if you could tell me what you know about him. Just things you may have noticed about his personality."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "Does he seem off?"

"No, he seems normal. At least, as normal as I've known him. Could you just tell me what you think of him? Does he seem… I hate to say it, but does he seem… trustworthy?"

"Trustworthy? Why do you ask? I think he's perfectly trustworthy. He's polite, agreeable, concerned for the well-being of others, willing to learn. I'm fond of him. He'll make a fine gentleman."

"Oh, that's good. So you aren't scared of him or anything? He hasn't threatened you? He hasn't been weird or secretive? You don't think he's hiding anything?"

"Threatened me? Are you feeling all right? What's he been telling you? Is he planning something sinister?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you."

"I can't find a single thing wrong in him. If you think something is dubious, we'll have to have a firm discussion. We don't have to include Francis if you don't want to, but his new rule kind of presses on it."

"Dubious… I don't want to think anything is dubious with him, but we haven't seen each other in so long, and I've been having these thoughts lately, right? They're bad thoughts, but I'm just coming to simpler conclusions with all my suspicions of him in the past. I'm seeing what I didn't see before. His old behaviors are starting to make sense to me. No, I don't think he's dangerous, and I don't want to think ill of him, but I wonder if he's still being entirely truthful since he lied so easily in the past, right? Do you think he's truthful? Do you think he's showing us who he really is?"

This was news to Arthur. He interlaced his fingers and furrowed his great eyebrows into one confused mass. "Of course I think he's truthful. He's a delightful young man, er, whatever you want to call him. A bull? Anyway, with what you're telling me, I don't think I'm the right person to be discussing this with you. It sounds like something you and Matthew should discuss between yourselves."

"Oh, don't you mean I should discuss it with Alfred?"

He tried to make sense of this. "No, with Matthew, and you needn't refer to yourself in the third person to be mature. That's taking it a mite too far."

The other's face twisted in confusion. He gave another halfhearted titter. "When did I do that?"

"I'm not playing games with you right now, Alfred."

"Hm? Wait, who?"

Arthur just turned back to face the desk. "That's hardly a good joke. You're standing right in front of me blond, bespectacled and big-headed." He flashed an almost-mirthful grin at that last addition.

"Who do you think I am?"

He was getting a bit miffed now. "Just go to bed, Shadowborn, I'm trying to do some reading. I don't know if you'll remember, but we have a dark spell to break."

"Shadow… I'm really confused. Is that a new nickname for me? I've never heard it before."

"I used it just yesterday. You told me it's another word for your kind, didn't you?"

"I've never heard that one before," he repeated. "I'm not 'shadow-born,' nor would it really apply to me anymore if it were synonymous, and I didn't tell you that. Really? Who do you think I am? Just… say my name again. I think I know where you're coming from, but I want to be sure."

"Alfred?"

"I'm Matthew, not Alfred."

Arthur turned again. He scrutinized the man before him. No, not before him, but rather still clutching the door frame for balance. A man with longer hair and a different set of eyewear than normal who spoke with a blunter accent.

"Oh, you are Matthew. Apologies, I thought you were Alfred. Was I confusing?"

"I think we were both confused," said Matthew. "So all that stuff I guess you said about me. Thank you." He beamed with a brightness that suggested he wasn't often praised with such devotion to his character.

"And you must've been asking about Alfred. You think he's untrustworthy?"

"No, but it's like I said. I know he's a so-and-so, and with the things he's been telling me about himself, I don't know what to believe. He's transformed, eh? Er, I mean like he's a different person, but I guess he's also a shapeshifter. Would you believe it if your brother turned out to be something and someone utterly different from what you thought?"

"I have _five_ brothers, each more irritating than the last. Discovering something like that could be a welcome change." He gave a little smirk. "Well, if you think he's still lying in any matters, you should talk to him, not me. If I'm to be honest, I don't think he's completely to be trusted. He's not the most respected creature where I come from."

"That's what I was afraid of," Matthew said, turning in diffidence.

"Don't get me wrong, I've know him to be well-meaning, though he did bite me on the hand," he ground."But I respect him enough to not let him get into trouble. He nearly attacked Ludwig in that alley, and I had to pull him back."

"Right. Well, I'm going to try to talk to him more. Thanks, Arthur."

"You're welcome, Matthew. I do hope you can sort things out."

"Me too."

That would not be the last time it happened.


	36. Obscurities

They left the city the next morning — Ludwig, Kiku, Feliciano and Lovino — after the two fairies were convinced getting up would not kill them.

"We're going to Allegria. Your home. You have to be excited," Ludwig encouraged, though his voice was a bit harsh on the lackadaisical brothers.

"Tired," Feliciano whined. His eyelids drooped, and he kept letting out high-pitched, squeaky yawns. He put his arm around his brother's shoulders and pulled him close, then pulled himself under the night cloak, which Lovino was still stubbornly wearing.

"We need more sleep, you damn mundane," Lovino yawned to complement the younger.

"You were just sleeping."

"Lovi, do you think we could run away and go take a nap?" Feliciano whispered.

"No, I don't want either one of you out of my sight," snapped Ludwig. "If you wanted coffee, you should've gotten some before we left. The reason we're leaving early is so we can get a head-start. We don't know how those mercenaries are tracking our movements. You can sleep later."

"Maybe I'll just… _veh…"_ And Feliciano walked along with his head perched on Lovino's shoulder and his eyes closed.

"Perhaps you need a stimulating conversation that will keep your minds awake for the journey," Kiku suggested.

"Who said that?" Lovino yawned.

"Here up ahead. I am hard to see in the sunlight."

"Right, right. We're traveling with a freaky ghost, too. Why can't I wake up?"

"Am I frightening you?"

Ludwig grit his teeth. "No, you're not frightening him, Kiku."

"If I do seem frightening, I can assure you that I am a benevolent spirit, and my intentions are purely for the benefit of others."

"What?" Lovino hacked.

"So Rovino-san, you have a talent with plants?"

This seemed to pique his interest. "Why wouldn't I be a garden fairy with a natural talent like mine? I'm even the master of Roma's vineyards."

Feliciano smiled.

"I see, and what does it feel like to do magic?"

"Don't you have freaky ghost magic?"

"I do not have any powers, though I did once transform into a living man for a short time. I still do not know how I did it. I am still not able to replicate what happened."

"Heh, well, with my magic, I am the sun and the rain. I feel the plant's life, and I feed it this nice warm energy, and I tell it to grow by weaving a spell. Then it grows faster than you can even imagine. And the fruit? The tastiest."

"I thought you said your tomatoes tasted like dirt," Feliciano said. He brought his head up and rubbed his eyes.

"Only when the lisping half-breed's around."

"Now, Lovi, don't call him a half-breed. Only full-blooded changelings are evil. Antonio's really nice. "

"Yeah, and 'nice' gets old real fast. Then you're just counting on your fingers the minutes you have alone without hearing his constant _RRR_ -ing. That's all his language is. Just _RRRRR._ Allegrian on the other hand is beautiful. Oh, also, he follows me around like I need someone to supervise me. He doesn't think I can take care of myself, like I'll just get into danger if I'm alone. Really! I'm an adult! What's going to happen to me if I…"

Dead air. The stillness hung like a stagnant fog, and each man felt it pricking on the back of his neck.

"This isn't real," he said after a minute. "Felice, I want you to hit me as hard as you can."

"Why?"

"So I can wake up."

"But you're not dreaming. This is the real world."

"Right, this is the real world. Which one? The one where we're all living countries?"

"No, the one where we're fairies," Feliciano said, screwing up his face. "And where did you get that idea? It's kind of poetic."

"It is an excellent idea," said Kiku.

Lovino shrugged. "What can I say? My creative genius only comes out every thousand years, so you're welcome. Now really, hit me. Kick me back out of this damn fantasy world. Give me the magic button so I can go home."

"This isn't a fantasy, and you're not asleep," Feliciano replied, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder. "But you're tired and shaken. I understand. So am I." He gave a great yawn and slumped forward, almost losing his balance. "Doggie, why did you have to bring up coffee? Now I want some." He held up his thumb in pantomime. " _Un cappuccino_ _con_ _cioccolato_ … _grazie, è dolce…"_

"Why didn't you order some then earlier?" Ludwig asked.

"Because I was still sleeping."

"You weren't sleeping. Neither of you were."

"I don't know about Felice, but I was half dead," said Lovino. "Or am I completely dead? Is that why I can't leave? Well, at least it's warmer than I thought, and there are good-looking women, and you ended up here, too, little brother."

"This isn't hell," Ludwig snapped. "We're going to Allegria. _Beeil dich."_

" _Non parlo folkerburghese."_

" _Ich spreche kein allegrienisch."_

"Let us try to keep the peace!" Kiku said. "Doggie-san, Rovino-san, Fairy-ciano, let us all try to relax. I do not understand what you are all feeling, but I can tell you are stressed. Maybe you should play a game to calm your nerves."

"What kind of game?" Ludwig asked.

"Here is a simple game. I will think of something, and you will try to guess what it is. You may each ask three questions, but the answer must be yes or no."

"Can you even think?" Asked Lovino. "What are you even made of?"

"To you, I am only light refracted by a faint distortion in the fabric of your existence. That is what a wise spirit once told me."

"Kiku gets to meet all kinds of spirits," Feli butted in. "It's like he lives in a whole different world. A world we can't see! Although one time I saw these cute kitties, and I thought they were spirits, but I still don't know completely. They disappeared into thin air before I could really get to know them. There was one that looked exactly like you!"

"You saw a disappearing cat that looked like me?"

The younger chortled. "Yeah. It was white and puffy, and it had a grumpy face and a curl like yours."

"A disappearing cat that looked like me. Really, Felice, you say this isn't a fantasy and then mock me with your wild stories!"

"But I did see the kitties! There was one that looked like Antonio too!"

"Stop telling stories," Lovino huffed. "And if you keep insulting me, I might just have to bring you down into the catacombs so we can share some rare wine. You know how the story goes."*

This broke him. "No! You can't bury me alive! I was just telling you what I saw! You can believe in Kiku, so why not believe in me?"

"That's it!" Declared Ludwig, who, in this time, was also quite deprived of restorative rest. "Kiku, think of something, and we'll play your game. There is to be no more arguing, no more threatening, and no more bad attitudes."

"You're breaking your own rule with that last one," Lovino put with a snide expression.

When he heard this, Ludwig recalled a hex he'd seen Gilbert use to glue a man's lips together. If only Lovino's accusations were true, and Ludwig did possess a working wand, the sour fairy would've found himself in quite a predicament right about then.

But he wasn't a wizard, and so Ludwig had to put up with the wiles of these unfortunate fools.

"I'll never understand fairies," he muttered under his breath.

"Let us begin," said the spirit. "You may start asking questions."

Feliciano went first. "Is it something I can see?"

"Perhaps."

"That's not yes or no," said Ludwig.

"I am not sure on that one. I would not like to say no because it may in fact be yes."

"What is it?"

"A song."

"You can't see a song," Ludwig sighed.

"I was not sure if Fairy-ciano could see songs because of his gift."

"I can't _see_ music," Feliciano said. "Sometimes my spells make me glow, and the light pulses in time with the music, but that's magic my songs create. Oh! I can see songs when I read music! So it's a yes!"

"But we already know what it is," remarked Lovino. "Let me think of something… got it."

"Is it red?" Asked Ludwig.

"It can be."

"Yes or no?"

"There are a lot of different types, eh?"

"Pick one."

"All right," Lovino snapped. "This one is red, yes."

"Is it round?" His brother squealed.

"Calm down, and no."

"No? But can you taste it?"

"Yes."

"Is it a cask of wine?" Ludwig asked.

" _Sì, I Grandi Piedi."_

The jab he did not understand, but it caused the younger fairy to burst out in mirth. His countertenor pricked and stabbed at the air even more fervently than his whining. Ludwig screwed up his face at the noise. How could a fairy be born with such excellent singing talent and yet have a speaking voice like wind grinding against a house in the middle of the night?

Then, within his own fantasy, Ludwig drew up the hood on his robe and waved his wand and uttered some sonorous yet ridiculous incantation, and the two brothers were unable to speak a word.

 _It must be nice,_ he thought, _to be a wizard._

They went about like this for a few hours — complaints maturing into banter and mirth before festering into frustration again from many a voice and remark. The games became less frustrating, except for one wherein the goal was to guess whom another player was imitating. Lovino became appalled at Kiku's awkward approach toward the Allegrian accent, and Feliciano fell quickly into trepidation when Ludwig brought up how changelings were the superior imitators.

They played all forms of guessing games and a few races to shorten the time taken traveling, and when the fairies inexorably collapsed in the afternoon for lunch and _siesta,_ Ludwig entertained himself with a book and a conversation with Kiku, though there was little they could relate upon.

"We should have a good gap between us and them now," Ludwig remarked as they came close to the familiar town in the evening. The days were shortening, he realized. How quickly would autumn come to pass and winter encroach him? In dark winter, it seemed, his very personality would shift as if he were more dog-man than human even during the day.

"I hope so," replied Feliciano.

"Just in case," Ludwig continued, "I've been thinking we need a sign."

"A sign?"

" _Ja,_ teams have signs. Symbols or codes. We need one so we can be sure we aren't separated. First of all, we need a question to ask each other to make sure none of us are changelings. The answer should be something very difficult to guess."

"Like a secret handshake."

"A bit like that. Perhaps a question to you would be, 'how do you make pasta?' And the answer would be something like, 'with spiders and bat's tongue.'"

"Blasphemy!" Lovino cried.

"Not blasphemy," Ludwig explained. "Of course you wouldn't make pasta with those things, but that's the trick. A changeling might try to elaborate and guess what you _would_ make it with. But if you say something strange, I'll know it's the real you."

"Ah, I get it," said the younger. "So maybe I could ask you what you'll use the amulet for."

"I'll use it to make cakes and trim hedges," replied Ludwig. "Good. Now we need a question for you, Lovino."

"Ask me what my summer profession is, and if I say I have something legitimate, you can shoot me."

"That is a little too vague," admitted Kiku.

"It was a joke, you freaky ghost mundane."

"I apologize."

"You being swapped would not be a joke," said Ludwig, though in his mind he would call Lovino's absence a relief at this point. He should've taken pity, but the fairy's sickening negativity was rising as if it fed off the victims of his insults.

Despite this, Lovino gave a little shiver at the thought of being taken and lowered his gaze in deeper thought.

"How about this," he said, "That thing about countries was weird and spontaneous, right? Just an idea off the top of my head. You can ask me if I could explain 'that great idea of mine' any further. I'll probably just make things up, but you know, if it's about _that_ weird idea, it's the real me."

"Fair enough," said Ludwig. "When we ask each other these questions, we must make sure to ask them casually. It mustn't be formal or anything. Just casual and at staggered intervals. Every once in awhile, we check. We've also got scissors, so we should have them visible on our persons."

"Right," said the two brothers.

"Now, Lovino, if you would give me my cloak, please. I've waited a little too long. The stars are starting to affect me." He held out his hand and hardened his icy gaze.

"And what if I don't give it to you?"

"Then you'll be sleeping on the ground next to a beast who will probably try to kill you in the morning. My wild self can smell fear and doesn't like people he hasn't met."

Lovino's eyes widened. "I… well…"

"It's okay, Lovi. Just overnight," consoled his brother. "Maybe if you want a cloak of your own, we could find someone to make you a nice one."

Lovino started to get very red in the face. "It's the fact that I need a cloak that should be damned," he muttered to his brother. "I might as well… I might as well not have any wings at all. I might as well cut them off and be wingless."

"No, don't say that! You don't want to cut off your wings!" Feli exclaimed. "B-besides, there are plenty of air-cripples—"

" _Air-cripples._ You say that like it's a bad thing!"

"No, I don't mean it in a bad way! You… you remember how Grandpa couldn't fly when he got older, right? His wings had lots of holes."

"He got _older,_ Feliciano! I'm _young!_ I'm too young!"

"The cloak, really," Ludwig pressed. He felt the starlight seeping through him like freezing water. His skin started to burn. On his palms, it seized up and toughened.

"We can try to find a healer in Allegria for you, and we're searching for the amulet! You can be young and have your wing back."

"But that doesn't mean I'm not a disgrace _now."_

"You're not a disgrace!"

" _I_ will be the disgrace," growled Ludwig. Marching over, he forcefully unclasped the cloak from Lovino's chest and started to wrestle it off of the fairy."

"This isn't fair!" Lovino howled.

"You have a broken wing. So what? Give me my cloak! I'm changing!" He became frantic with the fabric, shoving Lovino down and ripping the rest of the cloak away from him. But it was a little too late. Fur had already sprung up on Ludwig's arms and hands, and he could feel it spreading and thickening over his body elsewhere. The toughened skin of his palms and fingertips grew darker and tougher as it changed into pads. His aching, growing hands made it difficult to hold the fabric, but he grit his teeth and gripped even harder.

He whipped the cloak around him, but such a notion as to keep the light off him was ludicrous. The stars in the heavens played their magical symphony with the curse as the conductor and with Ludwig as their audience. The transformation was inexorable. Like the hundreds of nights before, his humanity was clawed away from him, leaving him a gnarled and grotesque likeness of terror. Bone stretched, and teeth sharpened, and senses heightened, and rational thought dulled, and he could feel all of it as it happened.

And he had a keen sense of déjà vu when a fairy screamed and whizzed his wings to try and escape.

When the transformation was complete, Ludwig threw the cloak down next to yet another ruined shirt and glanced over at his companions. Okay, he thought, now was an appropriate time to have pity on Lovino. The elder brother was somewhat lopsided. He flapped faster and faster, straining his wings to lift him, but the broken one couldn't catch the air.

"He's going to eat me! Help me fly! He turned into a monster!" Lovino shrieked.

"He's not a monster, Lovi! He's not going to eat you! He's still human inside!"

"Heh, and which one's worse!? A monster or a mundane!? I can't even tell!"

"I wanted to at least look for a decent place without windows," Ludwig murmured. "Feliciano."

" _Veh?"_

"Take your brother into town and find a place to rest. I wasn't kidding earlier when I said my wild self won't like him. Find me here in the morning, and we'll ask each other our questions."

"Won't like me!?" Lovino wailed. "Did you just _speak?_ But you turned into a beast! Please don't attack me! I'd rather be turned to stone!" Tears leaked out of his eyes as his consciousness descended into a coward devoid of any pride or reason.

"No, Doggie, I don't want to leave you. What if something bad happens?"

"I'll stay as close to town as I can. Kiku can watch out for me while I sleep. Now go. Take him and buy him some pizza and wine. He's a mess."

"I'm not a mess! I was born into the powerful House of Roma! Shut up, dammit!"

"Aren't you hungry too, Doggie?"

Ludwig hung his head. " _Ja,_ but I could probably find something on my own. Maybe later. I'm tired now."

Feliciano gave him a worried glance, but he turned his attention back to Lovino. He took his lute and slung it around himself before strumming and humming a simple melody. His humming soon turned to singing, and he sang a gentle tune while giving his brother reassuring looks. His voice was weighty with solace. It almost echoed around them as he wove a spell in notes and rests. It was a mere cradle song repurposed for his brother, and he sang tenderly and with love.

Lovino's demeanor shifted. His feelings of panic subsided, and he stopped shrieking. He wiped tears away from his eyes. Gradually, his breathing calmed, and his wings folded back down like nestling birds. He stared at Feliciano as he listened. Then his eyelids started to flutter. His brother saw this and ended the lullaby on a clear high note.

"There. Do you feel calmer now?"

Lovino nodded. "You… you sing so nice. Your voice, it's... really magical," he whispered.

"Let's go find some food. I know you're hungry.

" _Sì."_

When the brothers were out of sight, the dog-man lay down on his cloak and looked up at the stars. Kiku sat beside him. Each was silent. Their quota for noise had been reached long, long ago.

* * *

"Okay, where's the food?"

"There is no food. I just said that so you'd let go of your brother and get up. Honestly, I can't believe he lets you hug him like that. When I entered the room, your nails were jutting out into claws, and you were _this_ close to poking a hole in him."

"W-well," Alfred stuttered. "It's a habit, okay?"

"What? Growing claws in your sleep or constricting your poor brother's lungs?"

"He's warm. I can't help it if I'm asleep."

"Matthew told me about you cutting off his breathing when you were children."

"What? Aw, why would he do that? One time I kicked another calf's face in because he found out about that and laughed at me. Knocked his nose crooked. He had to have it healed by the fairy traders."

"And what of it? Are you going to kick my face in too?"

"If you laugh at me, I might."

"Well, I'm not laughing at you — I'm scolding you."

"But _Dad..."_

"A gentleman does not use silly voices and names with his acquaintances. Into here, now. I didn't completely lie. Your presence has a purpose."

"There'd better be _some_ food. You got my hopes up and now I'm hungry."

The fairies entered Arthur's room, and Arthur led his companion over to the bed where the great black book was sitting open. He picked up a jar from the desk and handed it to Alfred.

"Rub this gel on your forehead, but do _not_ eat it."

"What for?"

"I'm going to cast a mind-meddling spell on you to see if I can break it. This particular one used to be a fairly common spell, and not too difficult. It also seems to have similar effects to the mystery enchantment Feliciano's under. Go on, rub on the gel."

Alfred stared into the clear-colored slime in shock. "Dude, you can't cast a spell on me!"

"And apparently my words go in one ear and out the other because I said I'm going to break it."

"Uh-uh! I undid my sleeping charm, and you still got mad at me. Plus you said we're not allowed to cast spells on each other. This isn't fair."

"We have to make an exception for spells involving our mission."

"Why use me?"

"I thought you'd be the most accepting of it."

"No, sir! I may be a changeling, but I have dignity. And what if you mess up and I'm stuck beguiled?"

"Alfred, I'll have you know, I have a BS in Magicks and a magician's license, so I'm very confident in my abilities."

"A BS in Magicks from where, Bra—"

"Yaits University. Possibly the best in the world to attain a degree in a magical study, though I won't put down Straffino College in Allegria. I'm the third in my family to attend such a prestigious school after my mother and grandfather. I would be fourth, but my brother Gareth decided to be a Deepishmond choirboy." He said the last part with a bit of a sneer.

"Yaits, huh? Sounds like BS to me."

Arthur caught his laughter in his throat and emitted a sound halfway between a cough and choking. He changed it to full fake coughing quickly before returning his gaze to the book to avoid Alfred's humored grin.

"Hey," Alfred continued, "Remember our little conversation at breakfast yesterday? If one person breaks a rule, the others have free range to break rules too?"

Arthur stiffened.

"Now, I think what you're doing here could be a pretty big violation of your own rule, Arthur, and if you decide to go through with this, you'd be setting an example for your other companions to do just the same."

"You're messing with me, Alfred."

"Am I? You can't really tell, can you?"

"Any minute now, you're going to start laughing like an idiot and calling me out on my gullibility, so this time, I'm not going to buy it."

"Then I won't," said Alfred, his voice taking on a low, serious tone. "You know, Arthur, you want me to be mature, don't you? Well, I'm only thirteen, and it's kinna difficult to live up to your standards. Maybe what I need is some hands-on experience. I've been thinking lately what I'd look like with green eyes instead of blue."

"I swear by the chariot of Queen Mab, if you _ever_ so much as make your eyes green, I will find an iron gate and hold your face against it until it resembles a berry pudding."

Alfred gave a haughty smile. "That would be child abuse, milord, and it's an empty threat. I already completely changed into you and the worst you did was tell me your entire country hates me. I can live with it. A little unsettling in the stomach, but you're _one_ Isle fairy who hasn't tried to kill me, so—"

"Rub the gel on."

"Fine, but you're giving me free range. You get to cast a spell on me, I get to cast a spell on you."

" _If_ I let you do that, it will be a spell pertaining to our mission. One that will help us free Feliciano. And it _must_ be at your skill level, and you _must_ be able to undo its effects."

"Welp, I'll try to make it a spell to help Feli, unless you get drunk off your ass again and I have to detoxify you."

Arthur tried to fill his head with white noise. _He feeds off reactions. Don't react. A changeling's greatest weakness is being ignored._

After a bit more reading, he turned to face the changeling again. His forehead was smothered.

"Right then," Arthur said. "It's a 'trigger and response' spell. I'll let you choose the trigger. It can be anything, but make it obscure. Let's make it a word that doesn't appear in normal conversations just in case the spell takes longer to break."

"Obscure word? Hotdish."

"Hotdish?"

"Dude, it's like a casserole but made with northern love, and it keeps you warm in the winter."

"And it's a food apparently."

"Yeah it's a food! A _delicious_ food! Francis should make a hotdish. I can tell him how to make it."

"Francis can make a hotdish after I've broken this spell. Now, 'hotdish' will be the trigger, and then what? You'll do or believe something when you hear it."

"I'll believe I want hotdish."

"No, that would be your normal response. How about you'll believe you need to go outside? Easy enough. I'll say 'hotdish', and you'll need to go outside."

"To go get ingredients for hotdish."

"No, but anyway, let's get started. Sit on the bed. Now look into my eyes and relax."

Alfred removed his glasses and stared deeply at Arthur, who tried not to show fear. He studied the book one last time before holding out his hand and staring back into the… hollow… dark…

No, he had to be strong. They weren't Alfred's true eyes. They were mostly disguised by the sky blue color. _Pretend for a moment that illusion is reality. He's a light fairy like me._ Magis omnis, _the proud and noble. Great Titania, no he isn't. How could I even think such a thing? He's ugly as hell — the stuff of nightmares, and he's already beguiled to think I want to be friends with him. But, it's not like I'm not friendly toward him. Oh, why am I even trying? No, I don't want to_ kill _him. He's a good lad, but he's just so real and alive, and he does what they do in the legends... he terrifies me. I want to trust him, but I just can't._

"You gonna cast it?"

"I'm getting ready."

"What? Too scared?"

Arthur stared into those terrifying eyes and thrust his hand to Alfred's forehead. Energy of a wild constitution flowed through him in a steady, pulsing rhythm, and he twisted and shaped it into the form of the spell. Then, he released it through his palm into his companion.

 _"You are under my command,"_ he uttered.

Alfred fell forward, his eyes blazing green. Now the magician had to work quickly. The effect wouldn't last for long. He gripped harder, letting the gel squish under his fingers.

"Now listen to me. When you hear the word 'hotdish,' you will instantly believe it is crucial for you to go and stand outside. You won't know why, but you'll feel an insatiable urge to do so. Do you understand?"

" _Yes."_

"Good, and when I call you a ninny, you will forget everything that's happened in the last five minutes. Do you understand?"

" _Yes."_

It was just after he said this when the green started to fade from Alfred's eyes. He groaned and rubbed them.

"Are you going to do it, or what?"

"It's done," said Arthur. "You ninny, you didn't even feel it."

Alfred suddenly looked at his slimy hand in confusion. The faintest flicker of green sparkled in his eyes. "Um, why am I… is this food?"

"It's not food. Don't put that in your mouth. Now, do you feel strange, Alfred? Do you feel beguiled? Do you feel as if someone is messing with your mind and feeding you false ideas?"

"No. Why am I in your room? I remember you said there was food. And then you said you didn't have any…"

"I just cast a spell on you."

"You cast a spell on me? Wait, why? I mean, who cares? If you did, that's against the rules, and I get to transform—"

"No! No transforming! Hotdish!"

Without saying a word, Alfred popped up off the bed and marched with purpose to the door. Arthur followed, curious. The changeling didn't look back. He quickened his pace and darted down the stairs into the foyer, then swung open one door and stood out on the front step.

"Chilly out here this morning," Arthur muttered as he followed.

"Sure is," said Alfred. "Nice, though."

"You're a ninny. It's cold out."

Arthur took his companion's sudden confusion to put his palm to Alfred's forehead again. He grit his teeth as he concentrated to remember the spell, then worked the same twists and curves of energy backwards. The blue burned green again. _"Effects cancelled."_

When he came to, Alfred was even more confused. "The food is outside?"

"Alfred, you're stupid and ugly."

"Um… no I'm not. That kinna hurts my feelies, milord."

"Ninny."

"You donafta double-dip with your insults."

"And it worked."

"Huh?"

"I cast a spell on you and successfully broke it. That's one we might be able to help Feliciano with. Although I'm not sure it's the same spell. Your eyes had sparkles in them. Feliciano's looked more hazy."

"Hey, hey, you can't change the subject. Why'd you just say that about me?"

"It wasn't true. I just said it to make sure my spell was broken."

"What spell? What are you talking about? Why are we outside? You said there was food."

"Let's start from the beginning," sighed Arthur.

And after a good while, he'd explained what he'd done, and Alfred had realized what this meant, and the compromise made so Alfred wouldn't transform into or mock his companion was that he could look through the great black book for a spell to cast on Arthur.

The magician shivered in fear.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Yes, Arthur's degree is a Bachelor of Science in Magicks. Absolutely no irony intended.  
**

* Lovino is referencing "The Cask of Amontillado," a short story about an Italian who kills the one who insulted him by luring him down under the city with the promise of rare wine and burying him alive.

Magis omnis: The species of fairies without wings which are physically able to perform spells of both light and dark magic.

Un cappuccino con cioccolato… grazie, è dolce: A cappuccino with chocolate... thanks, it's sweet.

I Grandi Piedi: Big Feet (A common Allegrian insult to humans.)

Beeil dich: Hurry up

Non parlo folkerburghese: I don't speak Folkerburgese.

Ich spreche kein allegrienisch: I don't speak Allegrian.


	37. To Err is Fair

There was a feeling of busyness and bustle in the village of Dinsmoor.

"Leave those over there."

"Open those ones up."

"Keep going. Almost there. _Vingt, dix-neuf, dix-huit..."_

"Yes, there's gunpowder. Plenty of it."

"Get out the coats. Coats and mittens. Not all of them like them, but we can't leave the children shivering."

It resounded in a mixture of lucidity and the garbled language Alfred had yet to learn. Apparently these people were from some country called Ama-twall, but he usually blocked out the noise whenever his new brother brought it up.

Alfred had seen these people before. Or rather, people like them. They were humans, and they covered their bodies with colored fabrics and their feet with tough leather. They had two legs like he used to, only theirs were thick and strong-looking. Their ears were peculiar round shapes, and they stood much shorter than the adults in Dinsmoor. They were as Matthew had described: " _Like us from the waist up, only their bulls don't have paddles, and their teeth are smaller."_

He scrutinized them closely. One seemed to be in charge, and the others were struggling to carry canoes packed with supplies and sleds with crates on them and an enormous number of skin-bags and bottles and ever so many furs. Their faces were hairy and their eyes sunken from a lack of rest. Bodies quivered with the opportunity to stay here and drop the burdens. They looked like sorry beasts. But at least their bones weren't showing, Alfred thought grimly.

Matthew trotted up beside him wearing a huge grin and trying to tuck fluffy hair behind his ears. "They're here, eh?"

"Are those humans?" Alfred asked, feigning confusion.

"Yes, those are humans. Have good manners, now. They're our guests."

Something about the humans' presence stirred up confidence in Matthew. He picked up his hooves with purpose as he led his brother over to the traders. Seeing that they weren't dangerous, Alfred bounded over after Matthew in an exaggerated canter and planted his own hooves firmly on the ground next to him.

It was then when Matthew started speaking that same weird language to the traders, and Alfred was again lost in the frustrating world of things he would have to understand quickly if he were to survive here.

It wouldn't be that hard to blend in and be cared for, though. Because of his fabrications, Matthew and the others already thought him ignorant of organized society. It was all a matter of making sure he kept to those stories. Alfred the weak, pale thing had seen humans plenty of times. Their conversations had taught him to speak. Their cursing and gunfire had taught him to disguise himself when he was around them. They didn't like Alfred the pale, weak thing. But they would like Alfred the calf. Alfred the calf had never seen them before, and this meeting was a new and eye-opening experience.

" _Voici mon nouveau frère,"_ Matthew explained, placing a hand on Alfred's shoulder. Alfred jolted, his front hooves kicking up and his muscles tensing. He planted them on the ground again and looked to the human peering curiously down at him. He wasn't sure why he nearly kicked the man. It wasn't his brother's touch which startled him, but rather the sight of those… things on the human's belt. What were they, and why were they so menacing? Their image chilled him from the inside.

"Don't be scared. Introduce yourself. They speak our language, too," Matthew whispered.

"I'm Alfred," he said, putting out his hand.

"Pleased to meet you," said the trader. "You two look like twins. Are you sure I haven't met you before?"

"Mattie is my brother by heart," Alfred said proudly.

"Yes, we took him in. He was injured," Matthew added.

"Really? Then, _quelle coïncidence!"_

The traders unpacked with a bit of help from the villagers, and several more times, Alfred felt the weird sensation. A tingling in his skin and a chill in his chest. What were those strange objects? Not all of the traders had them, but the ones who did seemed to pay them no mind. Neither did anyone else. Why couldn't he bear to look at them, then? Was it because of what he was? What was he, anyway? That woman who abandoned him had said a word, but in his infant madness, he'd forgotten it. He only knew he was some kind of fairy, and fairies were magical beings.

"Don't stare," Matthew urged, tugging on his brother's arm.

Alfred snapped back to the present. He had forgotten. No, he wasn't a fairy. He needn't ponder, needn't consider, needn't even let fairies or _magic —_ that was another word — cross his mind. He was a calf. A Homoalces. He would grow up to have paddles on his head and strong, firm muscles in his body. That's what he was. It was his mission now to be just that. Forget he had ever been anything else. Forget he _could_ be anything else.

He looked at Matthew again — at his timid smile and silky hair and lilac eyes. Yeah, this life was nice. In this life, he had a brother and a family and a full stomach.

A knot suddenly marked itself present in his heart. It had lessened considerably since he'd first met his brother, but it was still there pulsing faintly and sending tremors of fear through him. The fear that made him want to crawl into a hole and scream and scream with a voice that wasn't his own. He tried to forget. He held his head high and tried to forget he'd ever even wanted to… throw that stone…

"You're worried about something," Matthew said.

"No I'm not."

"You are. I can see it in your eyes. What's bothering you?" Matthew furrowed his brow in concern. He stopped walking. Alfred realized he'd been stalling.

"Quit asking. There's nothing wrong."

"I suppose you miss her, eh? Your mother?"

Yes! An opportunity! The corner of Alfred's lip tensed. His mind ripped itself away from the memories and focused on the task at hand: drawing attention away from his true sorrows and leading it to his fake ones.

Alfred dropped his eyes to the ground. "I miss her, yeah," he whimpered, digging in the dirt with a hoof. His lip jutted out. "I really miss her."

Matthew stepped back a bit and gave his brother a pat. "I know how you feel."

"No, you don't! You'll never know!"

Matthew looked fretful. He glanced around to see that no one was staring at Alfred's all-too-common outbursts. "Yes, I do. I lost Francis, my friend and mentor. He quit trading so he could train and become a knight. He's staying in Amotoile and not coming back. I know how it feels to be separated from someone you love. It's okay. Alfie, please don't cry. You'll make a scene, and we have visitors."

He wasn't yet crying, but it occurred to him that he could, and that would draw even more coveted attention to him.

His ear suddenly twitched. One of the humans was calling for him. He looked to see the same one he'd spoken to earlier waving something in the air and beckoning. Matthew had already seen.

"A new coat," Matthew explained. "I think mine from last year is still good, but you don't have one."

"A coat? Like…" He looked back at his fur in confusion.

"No, for the parts without fur. The traders bring human coats for us to wear in the winter. They're kind of uncomfortable, but they're warmer than the ones we make."

This was news. Curious, Alfred trotted over to wear the trader stood. The trader, in turn, bent down and offered the long coat. Alfred took it in his hands and twisted his face in genuine confusion.

"Let me help you put it on. It'll be a little big for you, but you'll grow."

Put it… on? They're warm? Alfred's mind reeled. What was this? This man was giving him something warm? Warm as in… not cold? Like more fur? As he put his arms through the sleeves, he struggled to understand.

The trader then helped button the top buttons. The long coat hung over his back and down to his knees. It felt strange over his body, like a second skin that was loose and waiting to fall off. And it didn't feel like fur. It again reminded him of the accursed identity he swore to forget. This coat was like his lies and this shape. He really was just a cold, miserable… something _._

But… the coat this human had given him was warm. It was scratchy, yes, but he looked up at the trader and tugged on his new sleeves.

"Is it warm enough?"

"It's very warm. Thank you," Alfred said. "Th-thank you so much. Really, thank you. A thousand times."

"It's really no trouble. I don't want you shivering. It can get so cold here in the winter. In a moment, we'll find some mittens and a hat, too."

When he heard this, time slowed to a crawl, and Alfred felt his heart lurch in his chest, (or was it his two hearts?) What was this human saying? He didn't want Alfred to freeze? He… _cared?_ No, he didn't know what Alfred really was, but he was giving him a gift. A gift that would keep him warm. A gift given with love and thoughtfulness and kindness. Real, genuine care. It was something he never got from the wild animals or the fishermen who screamed and drew weapons when they saw him, but it was something he received everyday from Matthew and the people in Dinsmoor and here in this moment from this trader whom he hadn't even learned the name of. Alfred was cared for. Alfred was accounted for. Alfred belonged.

"Thank you," he forced again.

"You're welcome. Really, no need to thank me anymore."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Now, of all times, he did cry. He threw his arms around the trader's chest and pressed his face against him. "Thank you. Thank you for caring so much. _Thank you!"_

"Alfie…" It was Matthew by his side. He looked quizzically at Alfred's sputtering mess of composure. "You can let go of him. It's just a coat. They haven't even unpacked the candy yet."

"Thank you… for caring."

Then he turned his attention to Matthew and clutched him close. "And thank you for being my brother."

* * *

"Hey, Matthew?" Alfred asked. He set the book down on his lap and quaffed the rest of his tea. Matthew sat over by the fire marveling at how the grate could contain it and warming his hands next to its friendly glow. In reality, with his legs out in front of him, it looked as if he were stretching to reach his toes.

He turned back to look.

"I'm a fairy."

"I know."

"I never told you, though, when we were younger. Can you let me tell you?"

Matthew shifted a bit. "Okay. You can tell me."

"I'm not like you. I'm really a fairy, and I have magic powers. I can transform into anything I see. I can mimic any creature in shape and voice. I don't really look like this. I'm really very pale and sickly, and my bones show, and I have sharp teeth and long, pointy ears. I copied you to look more normal. I almost copied you completely. That's because…" He held himself rigid.

"Go on. You can tell me again," Matthew coaxed.

 _No,_ Alfred thought. _I'm not ready to tell you that, yet._

"'Cause I fell and broke my leg, and then I saw you and changed into you."

Matthew smiled after the crackling of the fire filled the air for a moment. "It feels good to hear you say that," he said. "Like closure. You're telling the truth."

 _That's not…_ "Closure… yeah. Hey, thanks for not giving up on me."

"That's what brothers are for, right?"

Their moment of bonding was interrupted by Francis, who stormed into the drawing room clutching a bottle of wine in one hand and his swallow seal letter in the other. "They left the city. Ivan was visiting his sisters, and he smelled their trail. We have to follow them."

"It's, like, the middle of the night," Alfred replied. "Aren't you the one always complaining about not getting your manly beauty rest?"

" _Non, il est minuit moins le quart,_ and they will only get farther ahead," Francis whined in interjection. His speech was curiously slurred. "We'll have to chase them again. They're going to Allegria. If they get to Allegria, we'll just have a hard time. Amotoile's wards are petty compared to the ones they can weave with their spells, and your reckless ideas would get you into a world of trouble."

"Hey, man, back off. I'm not sure where Allegria is, but it's probably miles and miles away from here. Plus, like I said, it's the middle of the night. They're probably sleepin', and we'dafta pack up all our stuff. Also, I won't go anywhere 'til I've had another one of your breakfasts. Oh, hey, can you also make this thing called 'hotdish?' Hamburger rice hotdish?"

"I know it's an urgent mission, but Alfred's right. You should try to rest. You're already stressed."

"Don't even think about waking Yao up. He'd probably dropkick you into the wall and then start mouthing off about how his back hurts if he yawns. All he needs is a rolling pin to work out those kinks. Or, hey, he could drink his own tea. This stuff works miracles." He raised his cup, only to remember it was empty and make up for it with an endorsing smile to the elder.

"And Irunya and Natalya haven't finished our new clothes," added Matthew. "Al and I don't have anything decent to wear."

"Another good point. Your clothes are just uncomfortable, and every time I've worn something of Arthur's it's always too tight around my waist. Dang fairy measurements."

"Ivan could stay behind and bring them to us," Francis suggested.

"Ivan is our tracker," Alfred said flatly. "Go back to bed."

After a bit more arguing, the two brothers did convince Francis to return to bed, ("and stop drinking!") And then they returned to a more relaxed state. Matthew gave a soft, mewling yawn and stretched out on the rug in front of the fireplace.

Alfred, in turn, yawned and stretched his arms over his head. "Normally, I'd jump right into going after them even in the middle of the night, but I feel so relaxed and comfy. Arts let me borrow his big black book of banned black magic. Dude thinks I'm looking for a sick way to beguile him, but I've just been reading folktales. That fire's warm, too. I s'pose it's chilly outside. I was just thinking about the first time the traders gave me a coat."

Matthew looked puzzled, but his bewilderment quickly morphed into a wide grin. "Oh yeah, you started crying, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Alfred sighed in sudden chagrin.

"You were happy. No shame in showing your gratitude."

"You can't understand how happy I was. It was crazy. You're out on your own with nature and sickliness trying to kill you, and then you find good people and realize someone wants to take care of you. I was _ecstatic._ And then I got to be warm. This mission kinna reminds me of that. Wow, you guys all _know_ my secret, and yet I'm snuggled up here in this cozy chair next to the fireplace with a book — a book I got from a new friend."

"Yeah. It's funny. Just a few nights ago I wished I could be in here sitting by this fire, and it came true. I'm still uneasy with this body, though."

"You'll get used to it."

"That's coming from you."

"Touché. Hey, Matt? Why's Francy so pissy lately? It can't all be from me going into the city."

"No, not all of it."

"So you know? You told him he was stressed."

"He told me about some things while we were on our walk alone together. It's best you don't ask him about it, but he's really worried about his job."

Alfred groaned in annoyance. "And suddenly, I don't feel so included anymore."

"Well, here's what he told me. Knights are supposed to protect the people. It's their duty to make sure everyone is safe. One of Francis' many responsibilities is to get rid of, uh, not-humans swapped with humans."

"But I'm not swapped with anyone. That was the first thing I told everybody."

"Listen. Francis said that when you first revealed yourself, he fainted. That's because he'd never met one who wanted to be known before. To him, they're all like he sees in his missions. They're ruthless, _heartless_ creatures that get really aggressive and do use magic to hurt people. Or they're just plain liars and thieves, taking the shapes of others and pretending while the victims are subject to the unknown.

"And they _never_ show who they really are unless forced even if it's painfully obvious. But you, you showed him and the others. You changed into your true form, and then you started helping and talking about how much you want to help. Francis doesn't understand."

"Since when is being a helpful person hard to understand? Arthur drank poison. A heartless monster would let him die."

"He understands that you're a good person. He doesn't understand _why._ Al…"

"What."

"Francis told me he's wanted to turn you in a few times."

"Turn me in… as in _kill_ me?" His eyes widened in disbelief.

"Not kill you. Never kill you. Just, well, imprison you, or... hold a fire poker flat against your back so you've got an unchangeable scar. Great maple, I nearly threw off my friend."

Alfred squirmed. Such a poker leaned against the bricks of the fireplace as they spoke. "I don't believe you. Francis wouldn't do that."

Matthew shook his head. "No, he wouldn't. Because every time he's wanted to, he remembers that time you saved Arthur's life. And he remembers the time you risked your own trying to steal the wand. And he remembers how you could've swapped yourself out with me, but you didn't. You decided to become my twin instead. And he remembers how you've made a life for yourself in Scintillatia with people who know who you are and still let you stay.

"And that's why he's worried. Because he's beginning to see you have a heart, and he wonders if the others he's seen on his missions might have them, too. He thinks there might be a misunderstanding and that you are capable of caring after all."

"I wouldn't call it a misunderstanding. A lot of changelings make mischief and cause havoc just because they want to. It's in our purple blood. Even taking kids is a habit flowing in our veins. A rite of survival. The knights aren't wrong for at least believing in the concept of protecting people. Even I'm a little…" he broke off.

"What? You've taken a calf, er, a kid?"

"No, but sometimes I do and think things that are just… really not nice," he whispered.

"To err is… fair."

"But he's right. If Francis thinks changelings are heartless freaks, then I'm not a changeling. I've got the valiant heart of a hero. Oh, shit, Mattie, can you really hide that poker or something? It's... now that you brought it up, I just can't look at it. I feel like my heroic little heart's gonna explode, and that's not a good feeling." He gasped, and fearful twittering escaped his throat.

"Sure thing," Matthew said. He crawled over and took the poker in his hand, then seeing nowhere it could really lay without being seen, stowed it under the woven rug in front of the fireplace. Alfred's eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he did this. "You really shouldn't worry. Francis is stressed for other reasons, too. His wife is in a lot of danger, and he feels pressured by the responsibility and longevity of this mission. It's only natural he's a little edgy. Listen, Alfie, I drank Arthur's potion to be closer to you. I want you to know that I would stand against Francis or any other knight if they even attempted to do something like that. I was already pissy to him big time, and you know how hard it is to make me angry enough to show it."

"You would really do that?"

"Of course. He doesn't know you like I do. Sometimes I feel like I don't know you completely, and I still wonder whether you're completely truthful, but I know you're not a monster. Heartless? That's freakin' ridiculous. Heck, even if I were still a fully-grown Homoalces bull, paddles and hooves, and I saw someone trying to burn you with that poker through the window, I'd burst through the glass and topple over that chair you're sitting in with my paddles and make a big mess of things. You always did the same for me when I was in trouble. And really. Francis thinks you're a good guy, whether it's from getting to know you or me yelling at him."

"Psh, you can't yell. You're Unseen Matthew."

They laughed, then, basking in all the brotherly love conjured by memories and experiences. Then, Alfred returned his eyes to the book while Matthew became lost now in his own reveries of childhood, his silky hair and strange curl falling across his face like wavy, pale-amber rivers and his chest rising and falling steadily. He closed his eyes and let the warmth of the fire bathe him in sleepiness.

"So, is there anything you want to do now that you're human?" Alfred asked suddenly. "You wanna learn to ride a horse?"

"Maybe. Riding sounds kind of nice. There is one thing I really want to do, though."

"What?"

"I want to learn how to play a bass trombone. I heard it once. It's like bellowing, kind of, but purer. A nice, deep, rich sound."

"I definitely didn't expect you to say that. Bass trombone, huh? You strike me as more of a clarinet kind of guy."

"Bass trombone," said Matthew. "I think it fits me. I'd really like to learn to read music. Did you ever learn?"

"Yeah, I'm a doot-doot. I mean trumpoot. Trumpet. I play in the Academy's concert band. It's really one of the only things I'm good at in school. That and magic history, biology, all the stuff that doesn't actually involve spellcasting. I can memorize facts, but trying to do light magic is hell.

"I joined the archery team, too. Guess you rubbed off on me there. Great memories. I told them my foot size for archer's boots, and they just looked at me like I was a goblin or something. I had to have them custom-made because they didn't have any big enough. Me and my human feet trying to play sports."

"Oh, I want to learn how to play hockey! I want to ice-skate!" Matthew exclaimed with sudden fervor. He whipped his head up and looked back at his brother with excitement.

Alfred smiled in humored pity. "Maybe make that a goal for later on, 'cause ice-skating is a few steps up from walking, and you can barely walk, my dude."

* * *

Ludwig shivered. He felt his breath come out in white mist. The world blurred around him. Everything was dark and shapeless and constantly in motion, save for the silent flakes of snow fading in and out of his watery vision. The sounds of voices reverberated off the walls of this bizarre pocket of space-time. Screams of terror sounded, and a sound like grinding stones, and the pure pitch of Feliciano yearning for something just out of reach. Then there came the quiet sound of his own heartbeat and a feeling of gentle yet erratic rocking, as if he were on a ship, though he couldn't see where he was or hear any water crashing.

He felt himself ascend from the dream. His weak, astral limbs affixed themselves to his real ones, and he rolled his head to the side. Memories flashed back. He was outside, it was nighttime, and he was the dog-man.

"What is this strange creature Feli's made friends with?" Someone asked.

Ludwig's eyes suddenly burned blue, and he snapped at the stranger. His muscles tightened in defense.

"I should be asking what kind of strange creature you are," the dog-man snarled. The stranger reeled back, yet did so casually, as if not really afraid the dog-man could do him any harm.

And as he got a closer look, Ludwig pondered more on this question of if he could hurt the sudden stranger. He was transparent and glowing like Kiku. A spirit. He was older than Ludwig — on the cusp of middle age and with the graying stubble to prove it. An unkempt mess of curls fell in and out of his honey-brown eyes. And he had wings on his back — scarlet ones with gold flecks that were curled at the tips and decorated with hanging jewels. He was the spirit of a fairy. But why was a fairy spirit watching him while he slept? This was a violation of territory!

"What? You can't assume things?" The fairy spirit asked, breaking his dangerous thoughts. "You've been traveling with my grandson, but you can't recognize his adorable face in my strong, handsome one?"

"You're…" Ludwig broke off. Wait, was this…? "You're Roma?"

"Of course I'm Roma. Supreme enchanter of the Mediterranean! You should honestly be able to recognize me better."

"How are you here? And is this really you? You're Feliciano's grandfather?"

"Eh, I'm a spirit, but I'm here! Here and visiting my sweet little grandson!" Roma bent down and fawned over… Feliciano?

"Why is Feliciano sleeping next to me? I told him to go and find somewhere in town! Where's Lovino?"

"I went to my sweet Lovino already. He's in town, yes. Feliciano is here. I dunno, maybe he was worried about you being lonely. You should really get yourself a beautiful woman for that kind of thing. You seem like you would love the super hot ladies."

"Kind of hard to get any kind of lady when I turn into a beast every night," Ludwig replied hotly.

"Ah, but out of the ladies I met when I was around, I _know_ there were some who would've loved to get it on with a—"

"Are you really Roma? You're making yourself very suspicious, and these fangs aren't just for show."

"Now, come on. I'm a spirit. You can't hurt me, and you wouldn't be able to hurt me if I were really alive. I'd sing a single note and _whoosh,_ off you'd fly. Should I explain all the things I've done? All the deeply complicated spells I cast with my alluring voice? You know Feliciano inherited his beautiful voice from me. Oh, he's grown to be such an excellent musician! He doesn't even know how proud I am. And Gigi would've just loved him to pieces. A third Roma who can sing grapes into wine."

"Gigi?"

"He's so cute. My little grandson has gotten so big. Deep red hair just like mine was at his age. I shouldn't have dyed it." He tried to pet his grandson's hair and winced when his translucent fingers passed through his corporeal form.

"Feliciano aside, why are you here? You seem to know about our quest."

"Your quest? I don't really know about a quest. I've seen you traveling with Feliciano and that burdened one — I saw him earlier trying to help some children back to sleep. But I don't get to visit as a spirit much, so I don't really know what my little one gets himself up to. Tell me, which school did he go to? Deepishmond or Straffino?" Roma inquired of this with blatant partiality to the latter.

"Neither," Ludwig replied. "He studied in Volkerburg under a human tutor."

"What? You can't tell me he went to _neither!_ Neither one and he still has so much power! More than he's realized if he hasn't learned to unlock it."

"He's searching for that treasure you promised he would find. Perhaps that would increase his power."

"Treasure? A treasure I promised? Oh, it must be, well, I couldn't tell his friend, now could I?"

"Is it the _sogno_ amulet? The wish-granter?"

Roma's mischievous expression melted. "You know that much, though I can't tell you where it is. I wonder. How did he find out what it was before he found it?"

"My brother found the dream wand fashioned to match it. Your name was carved into it. I can show it to you."

"Wand?" Roma muttered to himself.

He fished awkwardly in his bag with his huge paw-hands before successfully scraping open the wand box with his claws. The wand lay humbly with bite marks in its figure, but otherwise still undamaged. The laurel branch engraving glistened in the moonlight.

"This was yours, wasn't it? It was stolen from you. My brother bought it from a traveling merchant, and I met Feliciano after he wrote a letter to your House asking about it. We're companions in the quest to find it. I thought maybe it could help me undo my curse, but it's Feliciano's inheritance, of course."

Roma looked amused. "That's such an old wand! I thought I lost it! Perhaps it ended up with the other things people have lost. Ah, the amulets only needed the wish of a fairy to work, so the wands were used less and less, and I must have stored it away somewhere and never found it, and then… then I died, and this and that. I guess it could be like an extra little inheritance for him. A good thing he didn't find that and assume it was the treasure, eh? Though he probably inherited all my other old wands. Wands are like wine. The wood becomes more magical with age. You wouldn't know that, would you?"

"Not in the least," said Ludwig as he tried to once again pack the box away as neatly as he could. "This amulet. It would rid me of a black curse like this one?"

"That it could," replied Roma. Then he took on a more warning tone. "Just don't start thinking it belongs to you. It is my grandson's."

"Yes, I know that. I intend to only wish for this one thing."

"Well, I guess sometimes it's good to share wishes as long as you're friends," he laughed. "But you can't wish for everything, and wishes can't solve every problem. Neither should you take wishes from someone else." This last part he said with a strange spark in his eye that made Ludwig squirm in place. Did Roma know about the spell on Feliciano? It didn't seem like it. It only sounded as if wherever he lived now in the great, wide multiverse, he only got a mere glimpse of his family's life in his absence.

"I wish we could know where it is."

"You can't wish for everything," Roma repeated with a broad smile. "If the _sogno's_ location has stayed a secret for this long, it can stay a secret until the very end. Besides, if Feliciano knows where to find it, it won't be exciting when he finally does."

"A clue, then."

"It's in a place that's very special to him, near a place where he does what he loves the most."

"We know that. He remembers what you told him as a child. We searched the capital of Amotoile, where you used to paint with him."

"Do you _need_ any more clues? Feliciano knows the place where it is."

"Well, we've been thinking of searching in Allegria. Back at his home."

"Fine by me. Allegria is the most beautiful country in the world."

"But the question is of if the amulet is there."

Roma just shrugged. "I don't know."

"Did you lose the amulet, too?" He growled with sudden suspicion.

"No. I told you. Feliciano knows the place where it is. He will eventually find it. I didn't make it hard."

"If you ask me, it's been unbelievably hard. I've been chased by a pack of confused mercenaries that thinks I'm some kind of liaison to a dark wizard. And Feliciano was taken and replaced by a changeling, and I thought the changeling really was him until he burned himself on my scissors. If Lovino had given me my cloak in time, I might not even be lying here outside of town because they'd see me as a monster if I entered. And those are just _my_ hardships! Look at your grandsons! Look at Lovino's wing!"

Roma's wings fluttered in nonexistent wind. "What was your name?"

"Ludwig of Volkerburg."

"All right, Loota-vig of Folka-burg, listen to me. If you could be granted any wish, what would you do to deserve that wish?"

"I—"

"Wealth, fame, happiness, whatever you wished for, you wouldn't be truly happy unless you worked for it. It always feels more satisfying to earn something rather than simply receive it with no effort. I was born a music caster, and I became powerful after I struggled and fought my own battles. You say this quest has been hard. Perhaps it's been hard for a reason. Maybe you're just coming of age, and you're learning about the world and yourself. You shouldn't make wishes unless you've encountered trials. Although, I guess in my day, I made a lot of them. Passionate wishes. They're granted stronger if they're passionate~"

"Will you shut up!? You say the trials of this quest on top of simply being cursed are what deserve me of the end of it? I've tried to find nice girls. But no, when the stars come out—" He gave a ferocious string of barks that echoed off into the night and caused an owl to fly from its perch.

"You're being too negative. Come on, a powerful treasure was never gained without a good quest — even simple ones. Don't make this harder than it already is. Simple, simple."

"I'm tired and stressed. That's what I am. And this form — it warps my thinking. How can I learn anything about myself when I'm not even myself?"

"You should rest. Take a day off. Drink some wine. Find a pretty lady during the day and serenade her for an hour. Take a nice, long bath. Oh, now _I_ wish I were back."

"I prefer beer," Ludwig grunted, ignoring most of the preceding.

"Then drink beer. Life is hard enough. You don't need to make it harder just because of extra complications. Just do what makes you happy. Tell that to Lovi for me, please?" Roma gave an expression of sincerity. His honey eyes were pleading.

The look was enough to restore some humanity in Ludwig. He angled his muzzle toward the ground. "Feliciano sounds just like you. Women and wine. That's all he talks about. I'm sure Lovino just as much."

"I'm happy for my boys. The interest is healthy. Oh, their mother must be proud of them. I love them so much. Grandpa loves you, Feliciano. You still make me happy. I named you, you know."

Feliciano shifted in his sleep and murmured something that sounded like "cannoli."

"So cute," Roma mused. He then paused and peered at a hand, which was starting to fade completely out of sight. "I have to leave again soon. This world is only a dream to me. I wish I could stay longer."

"You can't wish for everything," Ludwig muttered.

"Ah! You're using that against me, are you?"

"Not at all. You said it yourself."

"I guess I did," Roma said sadly. "But you can wish for really good things and hope they come true." He then bent down and tried as closely as he could to kiss Feliciano on the forehead. " _Ti voglio bene, il mio Feliciano."_

* * *

"Why did I decide to sleep outside?" Feliciano muttered when he awoke the next morning. He sat up and stretched his wings, then shook them. Condensation flew everywhere. He was dripping with it. At least it wasn't frost, he thought to himself. That would've been scary, what with Lovino's hardship already. Perhaps they should both find cloaks for the coming chill of winter.

He heard whimpering and the snapping of bones and looked over to see the hulking shape of the dog-man slowly beginning to shrink. Claws flattened, fur receded, and ears stretched down back to their normal, rounded positions. The fur on his head started to lighten into a matted blond. Even in sleep, the creature grit his teeth as if he were in anguish. Feliciano watched in crude fascination. He'd seen the reversion before, but this was something different. He'd never seen Ludwig asleep during.

"I… I woke up before Doggie did? Did I really? I'm awake, aren't I?" He pinched his cheek, and it stung. A bemused expression painted itself upon his countenance. "I _am_ awake before Doggie!"

"That would be a first," said Kiku, floating near. "Would it not?"

"I'm speaking with enthusiasm, and I'm sitting up, and my eyes are open! Well, as open as I like them — that sun is bright this morning. Wow, I can't believe it!"

"A cause for celebration?"

"Well, I don't know if it's that exciting, but sure! Let's go find Lovino and eat even more pizza! Hey, I even dreamed about Grandpa Roma last night! He said I'm going to find the amulet!"

Ludwig slept on. If anything, he saw the entire experience as a dream.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **In response to the guest review, yes, this story will remain without pairings.**

Vingt, dix-neuf, dix-huit- Twenty, nineteen, eighteen

Voici mon nouveau frère- This is my new brother

Non, il est minuit moins le quart- No, it's a quarter to midnight

Ti voglio bene, il mio Feliciano- I love you, my Feliciano


	38. Pursuit and Persistence

Everything, it seemed, was still bent against him.

"Oi, Alfred," Arthur voiced weakly, "You wouldn't mind growing just a mite smaller, would you?"

"I'm a shapeshifter, midude, not a sizeshifter."

"Bother. Well, I don't suppose you could maybe…" He eyed the others crammed into the small cabin of the carriage, but was only met with discouraging glares, save for Ivan, and he was not on Arthur's mind to suggest.

"You want me to be my true form?"

"The driver doesn't know your secret," Francis warned.

"As the smallest person here, I will not have two of myself," Yao interrupted.

"Why?" Alfred asked. "We'd have more room, and it's only until we stop. I'll gladly change into someone smaller. You or Arthur—"

"Not me," Arthur corrected.

"What part of _'no'_ do you not understand?" Yao retorted. "Your powers are impressive, but turning into your companions is just creepy."

The changeling gave a surly grunt and turned to Arthur. "Lemme see the big book again. There was a pretty accurate picture of a pixie riding a Corgi in there. I could be a dog."

"A dog-man," Matthew piped up from his own squished position with Ivan on his right and Yao on his lap.

"Yeah," his brother replied with a laugh, "I could just be him. Though I guess I promised FB I wouldn't rip these."

Francis brought a hand to his face. "Just remember how many hours were spent making them and how they're the good ones you have now."

"I want to keep the book hidden away right now." Arthur whispered to Alfred, who was on his left. "You remember I'm not supposed to have it, and we're nearly in public."

"You just don't want me to beguile you since I've got like three spells I get to cast on you now."

"You never found a _single_ spell suitable."

"I was taking my time finding the perfect one."

"Bet," said Ivan.

"In any case, we must be serious about breaking the spell on Feliciano," said Arthur.

"Well, right," Alfred put sheepishly. "I was looking at spells. Swear it."

"Matthew, you're his brother. How much time did he spend laughing at the illustrations in that accursed storybook?"

"I wouldn't know."

Arthur turned to look at Alfred, their faces meeting not a foot apart due to the cramped mass of sweaty mercenaries taking up residence in the carriage. "You tell me. How many children's stories did you read, and how many spells did you study?"

"Well, the stories are _interesting._ Some of 'em get really dark and twisted, too. You know there's one legend that wingless fairies are really winged fairies who helped changelings get swapped out, so they got their wings chopped off, and then they were sent to the Isle to live in isolation as punishment—?"

"Preachers of blasphemy, that's who made up that legend, and don't you _dare_ go around repeating such rubbish," Arthur warned. " _Magis nitor_ and _Magis omnis_ are two completely different species. One can only use low-energy light magicks, and the other, while predisposed to light magicks, can utilize a wide range of mystical energies. You should know that, being an undergrad. And why in the world would we help to—"

"Yep, but did you know some wingless fairies have vestigial flight muscles?"

"Urban legend. And why—"

"Well, sure, say that, but how do you explain some people feeling phantom wings—"

"Phantom wings? Good lord, I didn't organize that compilation at all, did I? If I'd had more time, and maybe a niece and a barber who thought I was crazy, I could've sorted my books between noble literature and propaganda."*

"Alfred," said Yao, "Do you think Arthur's compilation would contain information on the spell he used to get arrested?"

"No!" Arthur interjected. "I burned that book myself. I recognized that one as a book of evil."

"You did not," said Ivan.

"I did too, and you can't prove anything."

"I can see what your mind tries to hide. Very insightful, demonsight. And anyway, is obvious. You quickly said that you burned book so there would be no further questions."

"Right. That's what I keep saying about Arts and this Peter guy he hates so much," remarked Alfred.

"Oh, Titania, will you _stop_ asking about Peter!?"

"If you tell me who he is, then yeah, sure, and I'll throw in a favor, too. Anybody got any wax—?"

"Peter is just no one. Absolutely a name I said purely out of Demon's Spirit delirium."

"Ivan?" Alfred asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Keep asking who Peter is," came the demon's reply. "Quite funny."

"So your spell came from an evil book?" Yao asked.

Alfred cracked a wry smile. "Actually, I was kinna curious about that, and I already did some looking. I'm makin' a mental note. A _book,_ not a scroll or document. Probably fresh-ish notes in the margins. I noticed you make notes a lot while I was glancing through your potionery books. Your handwriting's pretty."

"Why thank you," Arthur bit. "It should be, being that it's actually tidy and legible."

"And you got lady hands."

"Even the ugliest ladies possess hands with flesh on them."

For this, Arthur suffered a quick, stinging blow to the shoulder.

The window on the other side was obscured by the forms of Ivan, Matthew, and Yao, so any imagination the scenery would've conjured was lost to brutal reality. Here was the dignified and powerful Lord Kirkland _still_ on this travesty of a mission and sandwiched between mundane human and terrible changeling. His hair, though he paid little attention to it, was in dire need of a wash, and frankly, so was the rest of him at this point.

They'd left the tranquility of the chateau three days ago? Or was it four? Anyway, the only trails for them to follow were word of mouth and Ivan's sense of smell, which they relied on most earnestly, for even after Francis' warning that their quarry had left, the issue of clothing for the apparent twins still hindered them for a former three or four days.

It was too many days to count for Lord Kirkland, who convinced himself that referring to himself as such would boost his morale in the aging mission's path, though it really just caused him to question once more his position in it. Why had he been sent to Amotoile again? Was it because he was a magician? A _talented_ magician? He'd been magicianing anyway. Alfred now "owed" him a good three or four spells for the ones Arthur had laid and lifted in the days previously.

And a growing fear in him was that he was allowing Alfred to read texts that were meant to be kept from changeling eyes, and Alfred wasn't studying mind-meddling, but _exploring_ these forbidden books and actually learning from them — enough to sound even mildly academic without mimicking such a learned person as Arthur.

 _What have I done?_ The lord mentally remarked. _The Council gave me a sense that they trust me but will enforce punishment if I get out of line, and how many times have I gotten out of line on the mission? I've read forbidden texts, I've used forbidden magic, and I've shared both texts and magic with a forbidden creature. Well, I guess they'll have to deal with it. It_ has _been for my mission. And they were the ones who decided to send me here and take the suppressor off my wrist._

 _Still… there are rumors that second-offenders receive the old punishments… it's wrong, but... no, they wouldn't turn me into a changeling. However rational it was in dreamland, it would be outrageous here. But… oh dear, would I look better as a crow or a frog? I'll plead not to be a frog. If I must be something slimy, I'll take the snail punishment. I'll take losing my limbs over those bulging eyes. And I can't swim._

It only took another ten minutes of the uncomfortable ride for Francis himself to histrionically declare it a time of break, and he signalled the driver for them to stop.

Fresh air drove itself into Arthur's brain like an iron arrow. Every limb he stretched with a profound sense of relief, and he gulped in lungfuls of the precious air over and over until he could possibly begin to consider his position in the universe.

"Wait, so like this?" Came the small voice of Matthew. He and his brother were under a tree not too far away with one not touching the other. Matthew's question referred to the position of his cane, over which he leaned precariously and wobbled to and fro. His feet had popped up again in his boots, and he stood on the narrow pillars of his toes and the point of the cane.

"Put your feet down," Alfred replied mechanically. Matthew's habit of walking on his toes hadn't been stifled even with the new addition. He gave a yelp when he began to lean too far to one side. Alfred made no movement to help him, and once again, Matthew landed squarely on the ground with leaves getting tangled in his hair.

Alfred laughed.

"Help me up!" Matthew squeaked, his face flushing out of embarrassment or fear.

"It's not that hard, bro!" Alfred hooted.

"Please help?"

"Haven't you ever heard of pushing yourself?"

"Alfred!"

"Bro, you're whiny. I already helped you like ten times today. Pick yourself up."

A justified statement, Arthur thought. Anything else, and the lord probably would've told the changeling off for bullying and help Matthew up himself.

Well, Matthew's awkwardness was one way to tell them apart. A strange thing had been happening lately. It seemed that whenever anyone in the group, (besides Francis,) saw a man of blond and bespectacled image, he instantly thought _Alfred_ and treated the man as such. Matthew was noticeable, yes, but for some peculiar reason less so. Perhaps it was because he was quieter, and his behaviors did not leave an imprint of lasting annoyance on the mind.

Usually, when the twins were together, it was easier to spot the differences. Matthew's hair was longer and lighter; his lenses were round; his eyes held no stardust, only a weird dark shimmer that was fainter than Alfred's Depth; he was outwardly more taciturn but quick to empathize; and he continued to have trouble walking.

Ivan's sisters had also helped with the slight problem of appearances. For daily wear, Alfred and Matthew had been tailored long black coats, black slacks, and steel-silver waistcoats that matched. On the breast pocket of Alfred's waistcoat was embroidered a blue satin star, and on Matthew's, a red maple leaf. Respectively, each wore a blue and red cravat tucked beneath the collar.

Matthew had opted for sleeker, tight-fitting archer's boots that he hoped would make his feet feel more hoof-like. His odd way of popping up on his toes even humorously complemented the cane, which had a handle carved in the shape of a moose's head and was the target for many of Alfred's minor jabs toward his brother. Alfred, on the other hand, wore simple ankle boots, which he kept tucked under the cuffs of his slacks.

And on the side of the road, still half a few hours' travel from the next town, with the way they acted around each other, this daily wear didn't seem to suit them. Neither did the hats, which neither of them wore without coercion from the fashionable and genteel members of the Mercs, respectively.

Matthew had soon picked himself up again and successfully walked a few steps forward with the cane's assistance, though he trembled and held one arm out to the side for balance.

"That's it. You'll be balancing soon," encouraged his brother. "Just put your feet down."

"I don't need all the surface area."

"No, you just walk heel-toe. Fall into your natural gait. It's easy once you get used to it."

"And how many days did it take for you to learn to walk?"

"I think I was walking without pain by the time I was ten. Days. So wait, when did I learn to speak, then? I should be able to remember these things."

"Well, I guess this is realistic then. I've only had two legs for about two weeks, and I think humans take longer to learn than whatsits." Matthew fingered the silver-colored chain around his neck upon which dangled a little corked vial. The liquid within was a wild purple and glittered whenever the sun emerged from the clouds to shine on it. The antidote had taken just as long as the initial potion, and Arthur was thankful when he was given time to rest and recover from brewing without much interruption.

"So, how are you doing, Arthur?" It was Yao suddenly sitting beside him in the grass.

"I can't complain, but I would say my shoulder isn't too well at the moment."

"Did he hit you hard?"

"No, it was merely playful, but the knuckles were sharp. Perhaps he half-shifted them to make a point."

"You are good at comebacks," Ivan commented.

"Well, I try. A gentleman must always be ready to defend his dignity. Would it be the same for a king, Ivan?"

"No one says anything bad about me. I usually have friendly conversations with my servants. Water demons are very talkative. I would almost say they talk too much."

"Are there all sorts of demons?" Asked Yao.

"Snow, wind, earth, water, and fire, but is funny. All demon lands are covered in snow and ice."

"That's right," shivered Arthur. "You seized them all, didn't you?"

"All annexed for the kingdom of snow, Seeniiseryi."

"Even the fire demon lands?" Yao asked, screwing up his face.

"You can freeze fire," explained Ivan. "Lava from the earth becomes stone, and demons can freeze flames, too."

"How? How can you freeze flames?"

"Show us," said Arthur. He cupped his hands and produced a little floating flame that danced in varying hues of green.

Ivan shifted closer to Arthur. He peered at the flame and twitched his goat-like nose. Then, he drew in breath and blew softly over the fire. It instantly swelled from the disturbance of oxygen around it, but then started to slow down. Its form shuddered and sputtered and sparked, then utterly liquefied into a viscous emerald lava, then came together again as a soft, gelatinous green orb and cracked loudly as it solidified and crusted over with frost. It dropped into Arthur's hands a perfect, frozen sphere.

"It's become cold!" Arthur exclaimed. He dropped the orb, and the blades of grass it landed in grew crystals of frost.

"It looks like green ice," said Yao.

"Still fire," assured Ivan. "I just froze it. Fire became a solid. Not with ice, just with cold breath."

"Ivan, you — you just — fire is — you just froze pure magical _energy._ My lord, you just shattered the bloody laws of physics. Demonic power… " Arthur breathed, his eyes growing wide. "Can it melt?"

"You would just use spell to heat it. And of course I can freeze energy. Little fairies can channel and twist energy, but demons can change and manipulate it."

"So theoretically, you could store frozen magical energy somewhere and build up a… I mean, erm, real frozen fire! Absolutely brilliant! But… do you freeze all fire? You must let your people be warm in such a cold place. The demons of other elements especially."

"Of course I do not freeze all fire. I know other demons need to stay warm. It is only the land I froze."

Arthur and Yao looked at each other with the same thought: _farmland…?_

"And what kind of ice magic do fairies use, little Arthur?"

"Ice magic? Personally, I'm a standard-licensed magician, so I have general knowledge in all the, ahem, _legal_ magicks. But I know there are some who specialize in cryomancy. The winged fairies of western Hejgrund use a special form of ice magic to insulate their wings from the harsh winters. Ironic, but it does prevent them from freezing and breaking."

"Cold can break fairy wings?"

"They're delicate, yes," Arthur scoffed. "Fairy wings are like very thin, delicate glass. Alfred had them once. He could tell you."

"Oh," Ivan said somewhat sadly. "I did not know."

"What's wrong?" Asked Yao.

"I may have hit one back in city," Ivan replied, his furry ears drooping. "I did not realize he had wings until the last second. I just wanted to protect little changeling ally, and this man was insulting him."

"You hit a fairy with your ice magic?" Arthur gasped. "It wasn't Feliciano, was it?"

"His voice was not like Feliciano's. It was deeper. But it was the same accent."

"Ivan, if you shattered his wings…"

"I did not mean to!" Ivan exclaimed. "I did not realize. I did not realize. And anyway, I hit him in side, yes?"

"Did you really?" Yao accused.

"I lied. I do not remember where I hit him. It was too fast. There were too many people that I threw out of way when we were escaping city together."

"Puck," Arthur muttered. "There's going to be legal trouble there. At least he's a king, but that may trouble him even more."

"What're you guys talking about?" Alfred asked as he sauntered over and squatted next to them.

"Oh, Alfred! Would you like to see an orb of frozen fire? If you like real magical science, what Ivan's just done is pretty brilliant," Arthur said to quickly change the subject. He gestured to the orb in question.

"That's fire?" Alfred asked. He tightened his brow quizzically, then reached out and touched the emerald sphere. He pulled back in shock. "That's not fire. Fire's, like, a gas, right?"

"Fire isn't matter, Alfred," Arthur corrected.

Alfred cocked an eyebrow. "Wait, but if it's not…"

Arthur and Ivan explained while Alfred's face twisted into an expression of pure, childlike wonderment. It was then when Arthur saw, through the solid form of a young man, the image of a silly thirteen year-old boy who still marveled at magic and was eager to learn. Arthur realized he'd worn that same dorky smile perhaps a decade ago when he stayed up with candlelight devouring books of theory and lore. He was perhaps an even sillier boy who balanced such bookish activities with learning the ways of gentility. Sillier still, he learned the women's crafts of sewing and embroidery — though he never saw these as silly and more of a relaxing, nonchalant way to pass the time.

Here in the moment, he had molted out of boyhood and into a true man of refinement. A learned and able magician as well as a young noble. Handsome? Perhaps not. But utterly genteel and charming.

These thoughts only meant Alfred was perfectly capable of learning to be genteel himself. A genteel changeling. Lord Kirkland nearly pinched himself. Now _that_ was a thought too silly for a gentleman.

Francis emerged from the trees not too long after and was also quite intrigued, if not scared, of the orb created through fairy and demon magic. No one dared touch the frozen fire for more than a second, as it was so cold it burned and sent licks of electricity through the skin on contact. Alfred at once took on a bet to see how long he could hold a finger on the sphere without flinching, and Arthur just as quickly exacerbated his sore shoulder by telling Alfred he might as well, as he hadn't much flesh to lose to frostbite anyway.

And from the development of frozen fire, Matthew was initially excluded. He still struggled over beneath the tree to pull himself up, balance with the cane, and step forward without trembling or stumbling backward from the lack of hind legs. With his brother's mocking laughter echoing in memory, he persisted. He thought he probably looked a fool — leaves in his soft hair and a few spots of mud on his new coat. He fretted when a stitch was pulled. His successful gait was a horrendous thing that looked as if he were tip-toeing wildly down a creaky corridor. But he just couldn't understand what anyone meant by putting his feet down. He'd observed the practice, but when trying himself, he just fell off balance again.

Trial after trial, fall after fall, he eventually stumbled over to where the other Mercs sat, and in announcing he had walked such a distance all by himself, he felt an air of pride swell within his chest. Though, there was no rumbling in his throat, which was disappointing.

"Good, Mattie," Alfred commented. "Now look at this frozen flame!"

"Didn't you watch?" Matthew asked quizzically. "I tripped over my own feet, but I really did get here by myself."

"Yeah," said Alfred, but Matthew knew he hadn't, and the other Mercs didn't make any eye contact, only giving him lukewarm compliments. Even Francis' was no more than a nod and a smile.

Matthew was taken aback. Was he too querulous about his struggling? Was that why they couldn't praise his success? He thought he'd been modest and polite when asking for help. He then thought he must apologize for such an offense if it occurred. Either way, he accepted their halfhearted words and joined in the conversation next to his brother.

With their breath and sanity replenished, they decided to continue on within the carriage, though this time, they decided at least one person had to sit up front with the driver, and by mere chance as determined by drawing blades of grass, this outside rider was Yao.

"There," said Alfred. "We got rid of the smallest person. Feel roomier?"

"He was sitting on Matthew's lap," complained Arthur. "There's no change in room at all. Er, Alfred, maybe you should… slim down a bit."

Alfred gave a look of mock concern. "I'm not so sure I should do that. I might die from a lack of flesh."

"Good. Then we could throw you out of the carriage and have twice the room."

His shoulder pulsed with soreness, and a tear tugged at his eye, but Arthur smiled.

* * *

Ludwig and his companions, because they had been given an extra three or four days to get ahead of their relentless pursuers, were quite satisfied with themselves. They found themselves on this same day looking through a magic shop in the countryside which Feliciano had pointed out. Ludwig, in this time, was on his own toes trying to fabricate like Gilbert could.

"Gilbert has lots of collections like these, right?" Feli questioned, his wings flapping in and out with excitement.

" _Ja,_ but he doesn't sell his artifacts."

"Oh, does he have knives like those?" The fairy pointed to several iron daggers with jeweled handles laying over leather pads. Ludwig inspected them closer. He weighed one in his hand, then shoved it back down in conflict.

"No, he does not," he said.

"Oh, then what about amulets? You said he had amulets."

"Plenty of amulets imbued with all sorts of charms. Good luck, good health, and he has one that causes you to float in the air."

"That one wouldn't be much use to me," the fairy giggled. He flapped just a little bit faster, and his heels lifted off the ground.

"No flying in here!" The appraiser of the shop yelled. Feliciano folded his wings down, and his cheeks and pointy ears reddened.

"You're in a good mood today," Ludwig remarked.

"It must be the fresh air," Feli replied, "And our traveling. You know, ever since we left the city, we haven't had any trouble at all. No one's come after us or spied on us. We even slept in beds last night. You got to sleep in a bed. And Lovino wasn't as grumpy this morning as he usually is. I think he's starting to feel better."

"I don't feel better about anything," Lovino cut in from the other side of the room. Two bulges rose from under his new light brown traveling cloak. He adjusted it around himself and shifted his shoulders.

"But you feel happier, don't you?"

"No. Life's still a mess."

"Just do what makes you happy," Ludwig said, remembering the words of Roma, (if he had really spoken to Roma at all.)

"What have you got to say about it, mundane bastard? You never smile. Practice what you preach, I say. Now, what do these all do?" He grabbed two strangely-colored potions from inside a chest and inspected them in the light.

"I believe that blue one is a shrinking potion," said the appraiser. She tucked robust curls behind her ear and made her way over to where Lovino stood. Feliciano watched intently, and the focus of his vision was just a bit too far below her face.

 _That's why he's so happy,_ Ludwig thought.

"Is it, now?" Lovino cooed. "Seems I came here looking for the opposite of this, then."

"So did I," Feliciano purred.

"Put your hands in your pockets," Ludwig snapped.

"I must ask you to stop," Kiku added. "What you are implying is really the opposite of what you intend."

The brothers flinched, but obeyed. Lovino put the potion back in the chest and angled his eyes toward the ground in embarrassment.

And just as Ludwig turned away from the scene back to the daggers, he caught something out of the corner of his own eye. Through the window, he saw this something alight on the high branch of a tree. It was a large, ominous bird with glossy black feathers. His heart lifted in his chest.

Without saying a word, he left the shop and the terrible pick-up lines and strode out under the tree. The black eagle twitched its head downward. It eyed him fiercely.

"Gilbert!" He called. "You came to visit! Did you get my letter?"

The eagle jumped and flew to a lower branch. It made no sound.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it? You should really join us. We're pretty sure the amulet is in Allegria. Possibly in the very place where Feliciano grew up. They prefer wine in Allegria. Not as good, but you should really come out into the world and experience it. Although… I guess there would be wards. Maybe you could just come with us to the border."

The eagle was in front of him now. Ludwig, in this time, did smile at the bird. It was not an awkward smile either, but a warm, friendly one. He had it in his head that Gilbert was smiling back at him, too. Perhaps he couldn't transform with the others around, but he could smile at the shared secret. At least, until Ludwig's smile abated in sudden skepticism.

Something was off about this bird. Firstly, it was huge. Was Gilbert really this big in eagle form? Was the hook of his beak this sharp? This bird took up space on the branch like a tangible shadow. Its chest was full and proud, and it eyed him with judging authority.

That was it. The _eyes._ They were golden-brown. Gilbert's eyes were red.

"Have you found a new bird to be your muse, Gilbert? I thought you loved being a red-eyed eagle. It's your familiar. Stupid how you call it that, but you love that shape."

The eagle cocked its head to the side. Ludwig studied its eyes again. There was something disturbingly odd about them. It was almost as if this bird was just a bird. No great intelligence. No unique personality. Gilbert was animate, and his eyes sparkled with consciousness. Gilbert was no ordinary bird — Gilbert wasn't a bird at all. But this, this was a dumb bird.

"You're not Gilbert," Ludwig said. "I must look stupid talking to you. You're just an eagle." He turned around and went to go back into the shop.

Then the bird was upon him. It dove from its position and latched onto the bag on his back with its talons, screeching as it did so. It flapped hard to stay in an airborne position. The claws ripped at the fabric, and the hooked beak bit at the pockets.

"Agh, get off!" Ludwig commanded. He reached back and tried to strike the bird, but a talon tore a bloody fissure in his hand. He winced, then wrestled his arms out of the straps and threw down the bag.

The eagle descended with the bag, too. It ripped a hole in the front, then started searching through it, shifting and ripping through the contents madly. Ludwig kicked at it. He caught it in the wing, and it flew a few feet away.

It wasn't done, however, and flew back with greater fury to tear and widen the hole in the bag. Ludwig kicked again. He took stones from around him and threw them at the bird, aiming for its head. This only exacerbated the eagle's ferocity. Its head twitched up, then it came straight at Ludwig's face. Something red had just come to the surface of the hole in the bag. A red box.

 _The wand._

But Ludwig couldn't try to save the wand. He was running backwards and punching at the air while the eagle slashed at his face and hands again and again. It ripped chunks of his hair with its beak and spat them down to the grass. The eagle gripped the fabric over his back in both talons and flew forwards, trying to pull him down prostrate. He stumbled and swatted at the vile creature. His hands were red.

 _"Scheiße_! Where's starlight when you need it!?" He shouted just as the eagle bit one finger.

 _"Doggie!"_

He turned and saw Feliciano running toward him.

"No, Feliciano! It will attack you, too!"

"But Doggie! Why is it attacking you!?"

"It wants the wand! Hide the wand while I distract it!" There was a _crack,_ and Ludwig grinned when he saw he'd punched the bird squarely in the beak.

"I can handle this. Eh, Doggie, bring it over to the tree," came a deeper voice. Lovino then stood next to his brother.

Ludwig nodded and slowly stumbled over to the tree. His face was growing hot under the exertion. The eagle kept coming at him, though slower now. He was able to land a few more punches to its wings and body, and several of its feathers lay idly around on the grass.

Once Ludwig and oppressor were under the tree, Lovino thrust out his hand and outstretched his fingers. A creaking emerged from behind him, and Ludwig looked up to see one of the tree's branches bending down, its boughs twisting into the shapes of fingers that reached for the terrible bird.

"Duck low!" Lovino called.

Ludwig did so, covering his head with his bleeding hands. A _smack_ resonated as the arboreal hand slammed the eagle against the trunk of the tree and clenched its fingers around its thick body. It wiggled, but was trapped. From its beak came a terrible screech. Its talons clawed and sliced at the air. The golden-brown eyes bulged as it looked longingly at the red box in the grass. Cautiously, Feliciano bent down and scooped up the box, then held it to his chest.

Ludwig stood up and ran over to where Lovino stood. "You saved me," he said. " _Danke."_

"Don't get blood on my cloak," Lovino spat.

"Doggie-san, do you suppose that eagle is Alfred?" Kiku asked — quietly so as to not frighten Feliciano.

 _"Nein,_ that's not a changeling," Ludwig replied. "If we wanted to be sure, we could test it with scissors, but at the moment, I don't know if I can hold them." He looked at his hands and twisted his face in disgust. They were sliced in several places, and he felt pounding on his head where the talons had scraped. "Feliciano, can you heal me?"

"H-heal you? Oh! Of course!" Still gripping the wand box, he sprinted over to where his lute lay and slung the strap on.

"I'll take the wand," said Lovino. He took the box from his brother and stowed it in the pocket of his cloak.

"Where did it come from?" Kiku asked. "It just came out of the sky?"

"It was in the tree," Ludwig replied gruffly as he sat down next to the fairy and held out his sorry hands.

Lovino nodded. "I saw it. The human was talking to it. You like to talk to birds, eh? You probably made it pissed."

"You like to talk to plants, eh?" Ludwig retorted.

Lovino's lips tightened. "You didn't see anything! I don't talk to plants!"

"He does talk to plants," Feliciano whispered close. "Why were you talking to it, Doggie?"

"I — the same reason Lovino talks to plants, probably. Just someone to talk to who can't reply."

"Are you worried about something?" Feliciano asked. He knit his brow in concern.

"Well, no, but we all have private things we like to talk to ourselves about. And a bird in a tree doesn't have much to be concerned about."

"Sounds like this one does," said Lovino. He pointed to where the bird still writhed in its wooden prison and twittered. "Hey, wait. What's that?"

"What's what? Hey, ow! Don't touch them!"

"Stay still, Doggie. I need to see these cuts."

The woman in the shop appeared in the doorway. "I've never seen anything like it," she breathed. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine," Ludwig replied.

"You'll need to wash those. I brought a basin and ointment."

"Washing them would be good," said Feliciano.

The cool water stung Ludwig's hands as it flowed over the skin. The sight of the cuts made him wince every time he looked down. And every time he winced, he felt them even more painfully. Feliciano took a wet cloth and washed his face and temples. Then he positioned his hands on the lute and cleared his throat. Ludwig bit his lip in nervous anticipation.

"I'm talking about this," Lovino interrupted. He had bent down and was cupping something in his hands. He brought it over to where the others sat.

It was a chubby yellow bird lying limply. Its feathers were tousled, and its little chest moved up and down slowly. One wing was bent way out of joint. It chirped a weak note.

"That's Gilbert's messenger bird," Ludwig breathed. "It must have been attacked."

Feliciano agreed. "I've seen that bird before. Why was it attacked? That looks like it hurts!"

"A bad omen," Kiku remarked.

Lovino screwed up his face. "It's not a damn 'bad omen.' That eagle tried to steal the wand. It's just a continuation of all the bullshit. Just look at this bird!" He clutched it to his chest and pet it softly with a finger. "Look at you. A broken wing," he whispered almost silently. He frowned at it, almost to the brink of tears. "At least I can do something for you." He set the injured bird softly in the grass and pulled its twisted wing into a more natural position. The bird tweeted in anguish, but Lovino spoke soft words of solace.

He then felt along the wing-bone with a delicate finger, and when he found the break, he drew in breath and closed his eyes. His fingertip glowed a dull, olive green. From within the wing, a sickening _crack_ sounded. The bird gave its equivalent of a scream, but then silenced. Lovino took it and perched it on his finger. It fluttered both of its wings and gripped its claws tighter in affirmation that it was healed.

"Lovi, you healed it!" Feliciano gasped.

"What else was I supposed to do?" Lovino groaned. He stroked the bird on its head and produced a smile which he shared only with his little patient. The yellow bird tweeted a song before leaping off his finger and flying near the tree again.

It returned moments later bearing a small note in its beak, which it deposited at Ludwig's feet. It then flew up and perched on Lovino's finger again. The fairy was quite surprised by this and instantly went back to petting.

"A note for me," Ludwig remarked.

Feliciano reached down. "I can read it."

"No, no. Let me see." Ludwig's fingers stung as he brought them out of position and picked up the note in the grass. A little blood smeared, but he unfolded it to see a pithy twelve words scrawled in Gilbert's wild handwriting:

 _Lud,  
Keep searching for the amulet.  
I have a duke to kill. _

* * *

**~N~**

 ***Arthur is referencing a chapter of _Don Quixote_ when Don Quixote's niece and some townsfolk sort through his books to figure out which ones have made him go mad and deserve burning. **

**Also, 200,000 words! Yee!**


	39. The Cursed Duke of Edelweiss

_**17 December**_

 _Dear Diary,_

 _I found a baby._

 _No, I didn't_ find _a baby. I was given a baby. I don't know at all what time it is right now, but it was maybe ten minutes ago. I was having a dream about flying, and suddenly, I woke up to this annoying noise. Some kid crying. So I got up and listened, and the sound led me to my own front door._

 _Sure enough, when I opened it, I saw a kid. A baby human lying right there in front of Piyo Fortress like it's some kind of nunnery to abandon your children at. He was swaddled in a long robe all pitiful and blubbering, and the only thing with him was this brief little note saying he's a swap-child and needs to be taken care of. I even looked around, but there was no sign of anyone who could've left him there. He was all alone in the snowy cold._

 _Okay, but he needs to be taken care of? And what am I supposed to do with a baby? I can't nurse him. I can't give him constant attention. For the love of wurst, I'm not six._ _And if this person who gave him to me has any sense, she must be able to see that I live in a dark, shadowy tower in the middle of the woods. I'm sure there are some changelings who know my true nature around here, but still! Dark shadowy tower! Dark wizard! Dark wizard who has no time for screaming baby humans!_

 _He's crying again. I don't think I'll get much sleep tonight._

 _ **18 December**_

 _Dear diary,_

 _The baby is still here. I don't know what to do with him. He keeps crying for food and cleaning and whatever. (I mean, he didn't have any cloth or anything down there, so I've had to compensate with old scraps.)_

 _He's an ugly thing. Brutish. I'd hate to see his parents. I don't know how human babies could be cute. I don't think he's any prettier than when I was a tiny brat. He's dumb, too. He can't speak like I could as a baby, and he can't walk or feed himself. All he does is cry and wiggle around and sleep and poop. I have to find some place for him. Someone will take him. Someone who understands how babies work._

 _ **20 December**_

 _Dear diary,_

 _Being the awesome person I am, I tried to find someone who could take the baby away from me today. For the first time in awhile I actually disguised myself as a human and made up some story that the baby's father died from_ la grippe, _and his mother died giving birth, and that I'm his big brother who can't take care of him._

 _It's disgusting how humans are born_ _._

 _The thing is that when you say you're the big brother who can't take care of him, they all think you're still obligated to take care of him._

 _What?_

 _Well, anyway, I was able to find a suitable nurse after feeding him old applesauce for two days. I tried to leave him with her, too, but no. I'm his "big brother" now. Funny how fate works. I guess I'm just going to have to make this work. I'll be his older brother. I'll be an awesome older brother. I'll teach him to do all the awesome things I can do. Well, magic may be an issue, but if I can't teach him to be a wizard, he can help spread my reputation around._

 _By the way, when the people in town asked for his name, I said it was_ Ludwig. _Ludwig, like the legendary wizard. He looks like a little Ludwig. Big blue eyes. I guess I could've called him Fritz, too, but I don't think Fritz would like it if a human bore his name._

 _I'll make this work somehow. I vow that from this day forward, I will protect Ludwig no matter what! His well-being shall be my own, and I will never let any hardships befall him!_

 _ **24 December**_

 _Dear diary,_

 _Baby humans are exhausting._

 _I finally got Ludwig to go to sleep, but being a big brother is hard! I had to read him a story twice through and bundle him up all snug just so he would shut his eyes and stop crying. I thought about using magic, but would that mess up his sleep cycle? I swear, I_ will _use magic if he keeps waking up so often. A few licks on my flute or my favourite little sleeping charm, and he'd be silent as long as I want._

 _I would berate him for this if he could understand, but I think my face frightens him. My red eyes, my sickly appearance, my sharp teeth. He's not used to them. He would I be softer and fleshier like his people and cries when I lean over him as if I'm going to devour him._

 _I'm putting it in writing now for future reference: I will not eat Ludwig, nor will I hurt him. He's an awesome little baby human. Because he lives with me, he'll be far better off. No one else can say his big brother is a dark wizard. No one else can say his big brother can turn into a black eagle. Yes, Ludwig is different. He's special._

 _At least, I tell myself that._

 _Ludwig sleeps in a crib I got from the village where his nurse lives. He has clothes now, too, and blankets and toys. Little wooden blocks and things. He can't do anything with them except look at them dumbly, and luckily, he can't grip very hard, so I'm not worried about him choking yet._

 _I wish I could talk to him. Get to know him or something. What are his goals for the coming year? His brew preference? His favourite colour? After some careful questioning, the nurse said he looks about two or three months old, but I'm just going to call the 17th his birthday._

 _Ludwig grows so slowly. I think he's gotten at least a little bigger since he was given to me, but I feel like I'm frozen in time when I watch him. His humanness worries and confuses me. He still can't speak or walk or even sit up without help. He spits up, too. He's completely helpless. What a horrible little existence he must have. Having to cry to get anything. Well, at least it's given to him when he wants it. No one ever did anything for me. That's why I was born smart. So I could take what I wanted._ _My cursed existence is just like his, I suppose_ _._

 _Forgive my words._

 _I will never, ever let him think his existence is cursed._

* * *

Volkerburg existed in anxiety for winter. The leaves had turned bright golds and reds against the old greens of summer. It was a brisk and exciting time. The air, though still pleasant, held a twinge of foreshadowing to the cold weather ahead. Nights were crisp and days ridden with the scents of life turning over.

The enjoyable season was what it was and did what it did, but it could not disturb the guards of Gutshaus Edelweiss, who stood rigid and taciturn in their formation surrounding the manor. Their spears were stuck firmly in position pointing toward the sky. Fire pokers were wedged in leather belt loops anticipating a draw. The guards' eyes stared straight ahead. Not a muscle moved, and not a shaky breath was heard among them.

They looked an eyesore.

Edelweiss was unique in its hiring of guards. No other large estate besides the royal palace had so many, and neither did any wish to boast its number by flourishing them in such a menacing formation around the environs. It was usually a thing of gossip when balls were held. Whisperings floated behind gloved hands of the paranoid increase in ranks and the strange reasons for why the house had so many.

Still, nothing was done about it. Edelweiss retained its numbers, and they stood outside the manor day and night watching and waiting, hands gripping weapons like any given moment could bring forth the most critical battle. The air grew crisp, and still they stood unmoving like statues in a garden. Up on the terrace stood two sentinels, and beside them, a row of archers with bulging quivers on their backs and bows in their hands.

They did their jobs honestly. The man who hired them to practice such severe precaution was a duke. He alone was the master of the manor, and it was by his word that anything was done inside or out. If ladies whispered in the powder room of the brutish guards of Edelweiss, the duke was not a bit concerned. If visitors found themselves intimidated by the condescending glares, the duke merely dubbed their discomfort a sacrifice for the manor's protection.

The duke was not very popular at parties.

Neither was he in the heart of a certain dark wizard.

Gilbert cut silently through the midnight air, slowly encircling the manor and its hefty configuration. His ruby eyes burned with hatred as he looked down upon the freshly-cut lawn and many windows flickering in candlelight. His heart squeezed in anger. He was about to throw another log onto this long-burning battle — a battle that had been raging since he was born. He clicked his beak. What a surprise this would be. Or perhaps not, seeing as Gilbert had a reason for being here, and his enemy probably knew it.

He glided downward, still circling on the outer rim, and came to rest in a lofty tree still untouched by the colors of autumn. He eyed the guards with their stone-like visages. Likely they were expecting a black eagle to land in front of them or try to get into the manor through a window.

They underestimated him.

Gilbert reached down, and with his beak, pulled a gold chain off his foot. A little bottle swirling with bluish liquid swung on the end. He gripped the chain and flapped again, rising into the air on his great black wings.

There came the sound of metal sliding against leather. Gilbert glanced down to see one guard unsheathing the fire poker, and others starting to follow suit. The archers held up their bows.

Gilbert maneuvered to the center of them, and with the opportunity of their surprise, released the bottle from his grasp. It fell to earth and shattered, instantly sending a thick blue smoke into the air. He heard coughing and bodies dropping to the ground and internally smirked at what he had done. Then, he flew into the forest again and waited a few minutes for the smoke to clear. The inhalant potion worked swiftly and without a sound. When he returned, not one guard was left awake.

He landed, then, and selected the skinniest of them to take clothing from. Gilbert transformed. He stretched his scrawny arms above his head and gave a great yawn. It had been a long flight from Piyo Fortress, and it felt somewhat awkward and alien to stand so tall and featherless. However, he didn't tarry and took the clothes quickly from the guard, slipping them on over his own frame. This was a serious meeting. He couldn't be naked.

Entering wasn't difficult. The head guard had the key around his neck, and Gilbert twirled it on its chain before inserting it into the lock on the door and pulling the great handles to reveal the foyer within. He wrinkled his pointed nose. That smell — he remembered that smell — the mixture of perfumes this house had always been steeped with. Drying flowers mingling with baked goods and old, musty rooms and an evil odor that made Gilbert's stomach churn — _Enthüllung —_ the fairly recent invention of nightmares that could waft itself into any tiny crevice and force a changeling to reveal itself.

The scent of _Enthüllung_ was weak in the manor. It hadn't been burned in a while, and Gilbert was glad of it. He couldn't show weakness here. And anyway, Gilbert had nothing to hide. Yes, he was a changeling, and his enemy knew it. Yes, he had wicked powers, and his enemy knew this as well. Yes, he knew where his enemy's chamber was. He ascended the stairs silently. He charmed the butler and the maid into sleep, and their limp forms fell across the wood like dead leaves. He grinned in earnest. His heart grew faster.

Then he heard its plunking music, and he knew he had come at just the right moment.

The _pianoforte._

It had not always been the pianoforte. Early on it had been the harpsichord, and sometimes the violin or cello, and other times something as grand as a small chamber orchestra. But the pianoforte was the most prominent instrument that could be heard emanating its sweet tones from the manor these days.

Gilbert stood in the doorway to his enemy's chamber. And there he saw him. His back was turned, but there he sat at the pianoforte pressing lightly on its ivory keys and gracefully moving his upper body to the nonchalant little prelude. He had not retired into casual clothes for the evening and instead still wore his formal coat and slacks. His brunet hair was swept back behind his ears as he played ever on.

Whatever, Gilbert thought. The dark wizard was not here for the music. He was here for a reunion and a thorough interrogation. Briskly, silently, he crept up behind his enemy, took one finger, and brushed the pointed claw down the back of the duke's neck.

" _Hallo,_ Roderich Edelstein."

The music stopped. The man playing tensed. He lifted his hands from the keys, but otherwise froze in terror.

Gilbert laughed his rasping laugh. "This is such a better meeting situation than last time. You remember last time, don't you? Oh, the look on your face. All wet and covered in mud with holes in your nice jacket — the only thing you were still wearing, mind you. And I was pretty dashing, wasn't I? Holding sweet Elizaveta in my — _your_ pasty girl arms, her lips just centimeters from mine. I was so surprised you could find your way home after I knocked you on the head like that. I suppose the rain woke you up from my sleeping charm. You got your mud all over the room. But this is nice. You picked a nice, dry place. Music, candlelight—"

"Why are you here?" Edelstein grit. There was fear in his violet eyes, but he said it with anger.

"I haven't seen you in a while. Thought we could catch up. Oh dear, where's your ring? No, not the one on your right hand. The left."

"What did you do to my guards?"

"They're dreaming like babies. You should really hire some who won't slack off. Now—"

"Get out of here."

"Excuse me? I wasn't done speaking. Now, I came here because there's some business I need to take care of. I have some questions to ask you."

"Get out," Edelstein repeated. "Leave. Leave this place, Gi…" His right hand suddenly seized.

"What was that?"

The duke's eyes widened. Though they were the eyes of one in his mid-thirties, they showed an unnatural amount of toil and age.

"No, I want you to keep going. What were you going to say? Were you going to say my name? Go on. Say it."

"You know I can't."

"But you can try. You can try to say it. Go on. G-g-g."

"Get out!" Edelstein roared. He rose from the pianoforte bench and turned to face the changeling. His bespectacled face twisted in fear and disgust, but he hardened his gaze and tried to seem as confident as possible.

"That's not my name," Gilbert deadpanned. "It's Gilbert. It's always been Gilbert. Repeat. Gilbert."

"Changeling," Edelstein replied in his ever-honking timbre. "Changeling, monster, creature of darkness, shapeshifting devil."

"All true, but I'm asking you to be a little more specific. Just say it. One word, two syllables. I already told you what it is. Gilbert. Just say it? Or would you rather write it? How is your hand, Roderich?"

Edelstein gave a shuddery sigh. "If you would kindly remove the curse from me, I could say your name. But you will probably refuse, so I will not be able to say it, and it is foolish for you to try and make me."

"But you can make an attempt. I didn't seal your lips."

"You made it so the bones in my hand crack if I speak or write it. I'm not as dumb as you think I am, and I'm sure you're not as smart as you say."

"Just say my name, Roderich. I said _hallo_ to you. Go on. ' _Hallo,_ Gilbert.'"

Edelstein just sat back down on the bench. "Why do you feel the need to torture me? Why this meeting? Why do you keep coming back here? I haven't done anything to you."

"In years," corrected Gilbert, his red eyes burning. "You haven't done anything in years, but you tried to kill me when I was a baby, and now you surround yourself with guards as if that's going to deter me."

"I've had this conversation with you before," Edelstein snapped back. "You wanted to take my shape and my life away from me. I have a right to self-defense."

"A squad of archers aiming at a scrawny fairy baby is self-defense?"

"You had _magic_ ," the duke seethed.

"I was a _baby,_ and I never wanted your pansy aristocrat life." Gilbert locked eyes with Edelstein and stared into those violet irises. He then cleared his throat. "But that's not why I came here. No, it's not to curse you. For _that,_ anyway. I cursed your hand so you wouldn't be able to turn me in. I cursed your hand the second time so you couldn't sign for _any_ changeling's execution."

"You made a mockery of me in the court."

"A duke who can't sign his own name no matter how hard he tries? Yes, hilarious," Gilbert grinned. "Anyway, as I said earlier, I want to ask you some questions. Firstly, what is your connection with Feliciano Vargas Roma?"

Edelstein stiffened again. His spunk dissipated, and the color began to drain from his face. Gilbert thought he looked like the guards with the way he held himself so rigid and unchanging.

"I'm waiting," the changeling said as he sat himself down on the bed in the corner. "How do you know him? I've never seen him with you before."

The duke's lips tightened. His eyes, though still full of fire, were suddenly shrouded in smokey shock.

"How do you know Feliciano of the House of Roma?"

"How do _you_ know him?" Edelstein retorted.

"No, you first. I insist."

"He was a music student of mine and a housekeeper. Now he is an acquaintance."

"Do you care a lot about him?"

"Tell me why you want to know about him. I will not let you curse him. To even think such a thing is more wicked than you know."

"And there it is," Gilbert sneered. "So you _do_ want to protect him from me. And how are you planning on doing that? Hm? Perhaps by hiring _mercenaries?_ Obviously, you don't want to fight me on your own. I'd just break your hand and nail it back up with black magic again. But mercenaries… expendable mercenaries… yes, they're tempting, aren't they?"

"What the hell are you talking about? Why are you asking about Feliciano, and what mercenaries?"

"You want to seem smarter than I think, Edelstein? Then don't play so dumb. I flew a long way to get here, and I want a firm explanation. The mercenaries you summoned with a letter. Admit to me you summoned them."

"I didn't write any letters. You're just accusing me of things I haven't done. Shame on you."

"Don't lie! _I'm_ a liar, not you. Now tell me why you hired mercenaries to separate Feliciano from…" This time, Gilbert stiffened. His hands clenched, stretching the thin skin taut over the bones.

He bared his fangs and thrust one hand to Edelstein's chest, digging his claws into the fabric. Edelstein flinched, but quickly came to his senses and held the flat of his right hand to Gilbert's side. Gilbert shrieked. The pale skin smoked through his shirt where the iron ring touched.

"You get more flammable with age," Edelstein remarked softly.

"You _A_ _rschloch!_ You spying _A_ _rschloch!_ " Gilbert screeched. "How do you know!? Tell me how you know! Do you have a hired wizard!? Tell me, or I'll _kill_ you!"

Edelstein pulled the ringed hand away from his oppressor and clutched his heart. He sucked in breath and tried to avert his gaze. His hand started trembling. In terrible dread, the two locked gazes again and waited for one to make a move.

"T-tell you what?"

"Tell me," Gilbert ground, "how you know about my little brother, Ludwig."

"L-ludwig?"

"Yes, Ludwig. Tell me how you know about him and how he's my brother and how he's cursed. How long have you known of his existence, and what medium are you using to learn about him?" His eyes gleamed dangerously. "How do you know that he is both my little brother and the dog-man?"

Edelstein bit his lip. "I-I don't know Ludwig. This is the first you've ever m-mentioned having a brother. I don't know what you mean by the 'dog-man.' And I didn't hire mercenaries. Honest. Make me drink a truth potion or something, and I'll swear it to you. I don't know what you're talking about. I—"

"You know pretty damn well what I'm talking about. A month ago, my little brother Ludwig set out to rendezvous with Feliciano. They were going to embark on a quest to find the _sogno_ amulet — Feliciano's inheritance. A few nights ago, I received a letter from Ludwig saying _mercenaries_ have been chasing them and trying to separate him from Feliciano. According to Ludwig, the writer of this letter can't write the name of his dark wizard enemy, who is also Ludwig's brother, and his signature is _smudged._

"At first, I was a little shocked by this, but then I started thinking. Whom do I know who can't sign his name? Who is it who can't say mine without screaming in pain? Who would go through the trouble of hiring someone else to solve his problems for him? All of these questions point to you, Roderich. I didn't know you know Feliciano, but what a pleasant surprise. I like him. He's adorable and very friendly."

"You've met him already!?" Edelstein exclaimed.

"Of course I have. I was checking on Ludwig, and I had to say _hallo…"_

"You've met Feliciano. You've _spoken_ with Feliciano. You twisted, sadistic—"

"Relax, pretty boy. I disguised myself. And unlike you, he was entertaining. I told him noblemen are usually boring, all shut up in their houses all day. Alluding to you, of course. I should've mentioned you by name. Perhaps he could've told me more about your whiny attitude these days." Gilbert cleared his throat. ' _Hire more mundane guards! We need more mundane guards to protect me from the changelings!'"_

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," Gilbert smirked. "But you did something that really pissed me off, and that was trying to stop me from getting Feliciano's amulet."

"What fairy magic does it possess?"

"You already know. It grants wishes. Imagine such awesome power! And it really exists! I could take over all of Volkerburg and turn you all into birds. Yes, I'd like to see _you_ as a chicken. That shape would fit you so much better than the one you have now. Maybe that unruly little stick-up chunk in your hair would become a nice long plume."

"Stop being so haughty. I don't know who Ludwig is, and I never sent any letters. Stay away from Feliciano."

"But you just said you didn't send any letters to oppose me."

"I never sent a letter. I deny your accusations. I'm telling you now. Stay away from him. Leave him alone."

"Ah, but I can't stay away if I'm going to remove just one teensy little spell on his mind that makes him inseparable from Ludwig, and thus me."

Without any hesitation, Edelstein summoned all his courage and lunged at Gilbert, slamming his fragile body into the wall as if it were a doll. He held him there, his lips twisted into an ugly frown and his round little spectacles knocked askew by the exertion. He shook his head in utter disbelief and despair.

"Why would you do such a thing?" He cried. "I don't know this Ludwig you keep mentioning, but I know you, and you're pure evil! Why would you twist his mind!? He's innocent! Innocent! You don't _understand_ how evil it is to curse that boy!" His hands shook as he clutched Gilbert's shoulders.

"You say that like I'm going to eat him."

"I don't know what goes on in your sick little brain. For all I know, you _are_ a savage fairy-eater."

"I'm not really interested in Feliciano. He's too lean. Wouldn't put any flesh on me. But believe me, this little spell I planted in him does him no harm. It's not a curse, just a little harmless deception. In fact, he doesn't even know he has it. It works silently in his brain, telling him he agreed to give the magic amulet he inherited to Ludwig once they find it. He swears his eternal loyalty to Ludwig, and he doesn't even know I'm a dark wizard. In fact, he doesn't believe he's met me at all. You can't stop me, Roderich. What's done is done. Your mercenaries will fail, and I will change you into a brunet bantam content to peck at bugs while I watch amused. Then, once I find your spy, it'll become a flea in your feathers."

"I feel like I really should hire mercenaries with the way you're speaking."

"You can't deny what I already know. And you should know that one of your mercenaries is a changeling. They're working for you, Roderich. How very ironic indeed."

"Stop talking crap!" Edelstein shouted in passionate risk. He wriggled the ring off his finger, then gripping it tightly, shoved it into Gilbert's stomach. "I did not hire mercenaries, and I haven't been spying on you or this Ludwig character of yours. You really think I'd spend my days watching the horrible things you do?"

Gilbert wheezed through the pain, attempting wildly to pull more fabric in between the ring and his burning belly. "For your own protection, you would. You may hate magic, Edelstein, but I know you're a man who uses his resources wisely. You'd go to a _wizard_ to spy on me if you need one, and you'd hire magicians to stop me. But you _can't_ stop me alone _._ You're a stupid human. You know nothing. You _are_ nothing. You have no real power. No real freedom. You will not…" He broke off. The ring had burned through his shirt, and Gilbert writhed under its searing pressure. Still Edelstein pressed in terror of his opponent.

"Leave my manor."

"Leave? Not… die? Of course. You wouldn't have the will to kill me. You always make other people do things for you. You couldn't deliver a killing blow."

"Then I can repay you for all the pain you've caused me."

"Oh really? You can't say one fairy's name and you can't write your own. And that's painful. Ever so _painful."_

"You forget you cursed my legs to numb and go limp, and I had to drink a disgusting potion every day for five years to flush the enchantment out of them. You cursed my vision to falter whenever I start to play a passage in three."

"Petty!" Gilbert screeched. "Petty curses!"

"Really? Don't forget that twelve years ago, before you decided on the fiasco with my signature, you tried to poison me. Three times. And that's _nothing_ compared to the times you really did take my form and shut me up in some closet bound and gagged. _Nothing_ compared to the endless times you've taunted and threatened me! _Nothing_ compared to when you threw me off my horse and stole my shape and clothes and tried to kiss Elizaveta!"

Gilbert whined in agony. This amount of courage from the duke was disturbing. There was only one way out of this. Dissatisfying, but it would probably save his life at this point. He could feel licks of flame dancing around on his abdomen. Quickly, Gilbert brought his eyes down and looked to where the iron met his flesh. Instinct clicked. His clawed hand was on Edelstein's forehead in the tiniest fraction of a second.

" _Sleep."_

The duke fell to the floor.

Gilbert slid down the wall clutching his stomach. Tears dripped from his anguished eyes. He inspected the burn hole closer. In frantic evasion, he'd pulled enough fabric in between to stop the wound from becoming too deep and charred. Still, it was a sizeable burn. The red glow dissipated to leave it already swollen and deep purple and painful with burn marks emanating from it like sunrays.

"A scar," he choked out. "This'll be an unchangeable scar for sure. Not too bad. I have plenty of them. But a scar here? I'll be featherless… I'll wish for it to heal completely with the amulet."

Gilbert then looked to Edelstein. One lense of his spectacles had cracked. "What's happened to you?" He asked the sleeping duke. "You've gotten rough. Still a whiny prick, but maybe since you've become duke you've grown up a little bit. Whatever. If you didn't have that ring, you'd have been powerless against me.

"Pff, shame on _you._ You deserve everything. You tried to kill me. You signed your name to have others killed years later. You're partially responsible for spreading the use of _Enthüllung_ past the borders of Volkerburg into Amotoile. Then you somehow spied on me and learned of little Ludwig. You sent mercenaries against Ludwig and lied to my face saying you didn't. What? Am I ugly? So are you, you sissy nerd boy. You don't need those on your face. _Scheiße,_ if I could talk to those mercenaries, I'd tell them how much of an ass you are. That poor changeling especially. At least in Amotoile they don't kill changelings."

Edelstein did not respond.

Gilbert thrust out his leg and kicked the motionless duke. From his pinched fingers dropped the iron ring, content to spin on its side before landing and becoming as helpless as its owner. Gilbert gave a fearful squeak. Such a tiny thing stood out to him like a blaze in a forest. Dangerous and ominous. The top boasted a decorated engraving of a square cross with curving concave edges. A decoration, and the duke had used it as a weapon.

The changeling gently lowered himself onto his side out of view of the ring, trying not to let the burning pain panic him. If he were in a better position, he'd disguise himself and call on a healer. He sighed in anger. He should've seen this coming. He had sensed the iron on Edelstein's finger. If only the duke had said Gilbert's name, his hand would've been in too much pain to move.

 _How confused is Lud right now?_ He questioned in silence. _I was so frantic to get here, I didn't write him a proper letter. I said I was going to kill a duke. Ludwig doesn't know anything about my personal life. He doesn't know how long I've fought this war with Edelstein. To Ludwig, a duke is nothing, and to me, Edelstein represents everything I despise. I've fought for myself, and I've fought for the lives of others like me, and sometimes I've just fought him because I was pissed off and maybe wanted a life of luxury for just one night. Here we are, the both of us, one with a hole in his middle and the other charmed senseless. At least I'm still conscious. I_ could _kill him. That wasn't really my original plan — I just wrote it out of anger, but I could._

 _But I don't really feel like killing him. And that kid told me it's not fair if he can't fight back._

He lay there a couple hours conflicted in his thoughts. The candles melted down to nubs. Moonlight streamed in through the chamber's small window and bathed his body in pale light. His heart pounded thinking someone would pass by the door and find him there lying next to his victim. Shuddering breaths came and went as he tried fearfully to be as quiet as possible. Of course, he couldn't conceal the noise of the room, seeing as Edelstein snored dreadfully loud even in enchanted sleep. The duke's face twitched every so often, too, as if there were a fly perching on his nose.

The charm may have held indefinitely without cold water on the victims' faces, but the inhalant he'd used on the guards wasn't permanent. He estimated the dose would only hold until morning, and then they'd rouse and wonder who had bested them in the dead of night. This was humiliating. The dark wizard Gilbert was not supposed to let himself be defeated like this. If he'd had his flute, maybe…

"I really didn't plan for this, did I?" He whispered to the sleeping duke. "I even wanted you to admit to my face that you summoned those mercenaries. All I got was your petty denial. I've got to do something to make this visit worth it. A scar on _your_ belly, maybe? I could just take what's left of the candle and press it to you. Nah, not fair."

He sat up and scrutinized Edelstein again. What could he do? He couldn't work any complicated curses without his flute, and he knew Edelstein had sold his own flute years ago so Gilbert wouldn't have one in this exact situation. Neither did Gilbert possess any spellbooks at the moment, so there wasn't a chance he could imbue the duke's body with another magical affliction.

The duke's body…

"That's it," Gilbert grinned. "Oh, how did I not see this before? You wrote the letter. I'll just become you and find the mercenaries and tell them I don't care anymore. I won't be the real you, so they'll just come looking for your house if they're angry about any rewards. You probably promised to pay them, anyway. And if I happen to run into Feli, I'll already be trusted. He was a music student, eh? Well, I'm a musician, and I already know enough about him to be a good acquaintance."

Utterly captivated by this brilliant idea, Gilbert worked to gently remove the petty amount of clothes he already had on, then took care in taking Edelstein's and slipping into them. He kept grinning at the helpless duke snoring away while a changeling — his worst fear — put on his fancy dressy shirt and blue coat and lace jabot.

Gilbert even took the care of using said jabot as a buffer, before tying it, to pick up the iron ring and slip it into the coat pocket. There was enough fabric in between for its evil to stay close to Gilbert without him becoming frightened or burned.

He took the spectacles and perched them on his nose. His vision didn't change. They weren't lenses at all, but regular unshaped glass. Just one more way Edelstein attempted to be fancier than he really was. The entire man was a joke, and Gilbert emphasized this by messing up the man's hair with his claws and pulling on that extra stick-up chunk, laughing as he did so.

Then, when all was said and done, Gilbert stared deeply at his enemy and began to change. He instantly clutched at his stomach, and more tears tugged at his eyes. The swelling flesh pulled on all sides of the burn, and he felt parts that had already scarred stretch tightly and almost tear.

The rest of the transformation wasn't painful, however. His fingers became full and muscular — the result of a pianist's repertoire — while the nails themselves rounded down into what Gilbert knew was the work of a recent manicure. He grimaced at such pettiness. The smooth, graceful limbs which he soon came to possess were unfit for him. Not like the robust body of Wilhelm which had trekked over the river and through the woods six times a day while carrying a squirming, screaming baby.

His vision only became slightly dimmer, but that was due to being human. Edelstein still had a decent sense of sight. The lenses of the spectacles remained only glass and didn't enhance the experience.

What Gilbert really decayed in was the quality of his voice, which he could feel shifting in his throat. He grunted and spoke a few words in horror to remember the duke's voice wasn't this bad because he tried to sound snobbish. The timbre was simply this hoarse and honking naturally without any effort at all.

Which was a reasonable rationale for his musical talent to be more of an orchestral intelligence than a vocal one.

The changeling stood when it was over and pulled on the clothes for a better fit. "I am a nightmare," he said, adjusting the jabot hanging over his chest. The burn pulsed and leaked onto the shirt a bit. This was really not a good time to travel, but this body was stronger than his usual one. All he needed now was a good meal and a horse, and he would find his way to wherever in Amotoile those mercenaries and his brother were. A quick stop at the fortress first, perhaps, for more supplies.

He made quick work of stowing Edelstein's body in his closet, then packed a suitcase with more clean clothes and a few pricey belongings he didn't plan to ever give back. He ravaged the kitchen. It had been a long time since he'd eaten, and the delicious cake strengthened him even more.

To finish things, he overturned some furniture, wrote a lovely and rude little anonymous note for the guards to find, and with a little ink, painted a mustache on the large portrait of the duke hanging in the foyer.

When he finished with this, he discovered the wraith.

The changeling tensed. The child, for that's what it was, stared at him with a haunting expression. His eyes were a cold gray, and they held not a flicker of emotion. He stood there motionless in the corner of the room. Not one muscle twitched in his body. The empty gray eyes didn't blink. Not one silver hair shifted.

They stared at each other for perhaps a minute before Gilbert, in the shape of Edelstein, came away from the painting and took a few confused steps toward the child. The child didn't move. He remained in the corner content to continue staring.

 _What's Edelstein been up to since I last saw him? I didn't know he had any kids. He wasn't wearing his wedding ring, so he and Lizzy must've split up. This doesn't look like his kid, anyway. Maybe he's blind?_

"You shouldn't be up at this time of night," he told the child experimentally.

There came no response. Was this kid even breathing? His chest didn't move at all. _A spirit!_ Gilbert thought with alarm. _This place is haunted! It's true a changeling kid died somewhere around here. That's why I cursed Roderich's signature._

"Are you a friend?" He asked it casually. "Are you a changeling?"

No response. At this point, Gilbert thought he ought to leave the thing alone and leave Edelweiss before anything freaky happened.

He started walking toward the door. To his surprise, the gray eyes didn't follow him. They were fixed on the painting, and the child seemed not to notice when he walked past him and opened the front door.

Gilbert even felt a bit silly when he gazed on the child a bit closer and found that he was completely solid. Kiku the spirit had been transparent. This was just a highly-detailed statue. Many manor houses like this had them these days. Remnants of older times when gargoyles were plentiful on rooftops. He chuckled to himself as he opened the door.

"Just a statue," he remarked. "Well, statue, don't cause trouble. And don't look in the closet upstairs in my chamber."

The statue nodded.

Gilbert slammed the door, ran as fast as he could to the stable without exacerbating the pain from his burn, mounted Edelstein's great black mare, and rode into the night.


	40. Which is Far Too Full of Demons

His earliest memories were bittersweet.

"The eagle needs a place to land, Ludwig."

"No!"

"But he can't fly forever. He needs to rest. Open your mouth. Show me those flat monster teeth."

"No!"

Gilbert sighed and put the spoon back in the jar of muddy-green potion. Ludwig coughed and shivered again. He pulled more blanket up to his chin with his little hands. Blond hair fell into his face, but he made no effort to push it away. His complexion continued to pale. Only his bright blue eyes showed signs of health at this point.

"Do you want to get better or not? This is better than what the physician can give you. You'll be more than cured if you just eat some."

"I don't like it," Ludwig whined.

"There are worse things than this, Luddy. Just eat some, please? Just a spoonful? I promise you'll feel better by tomorrow."

Gilbert filled the spoon again and brought it close. Ludwig pulled away once more.

It was when he squeezed his eyes shut all together when Gilbert took advantage and shoved the spoon of potion between Ludwig's lips. He had no choice but to accept the gesture. The viscid, sour-tasting concoction slid down his throat, and he gave his big brother a look of absolute disgust.

"You'll thank me later," Gilbert grinned.

It wasn't too long after that when Ludwig was miraculously well again and he caught Gilbert coughing under the covers. His head was concealed by the bedclothes, and the mound of his body shuddered violently every time he let out a string of rasping hacks.

"Bruvver? Are you sick?"

Gilbert pulled the covers down and looked at the concerned child before him. His ruby eyes at once filled with love for the little one. He wasn't any paler or thinner than usual, yet there was definitely a tiredness in his face and form. He looked pained, as if his sickly existence had finally caught up to him and encroached him closer with every new shuddery breath. There was fear, too, and Ludwig had never seen his brother fearful before.

"I'm always sick," Gilbert admitted as simply as possible.

"Always?"

"Sometimes I'm sicker than usual. I'm fine. I'll get over it. Don't worry, I'm stronger than I look."

It was then when Ludwig remembered, and he left the room quickly. He flew down the stairs on his short legs, taking care not to trip and using the railing as well as he could reach it. Once on the first floor of the tower, he walked to a bookcase and knelt. On the first shelf was a medicine chest. He opened it and took out the jar of potion.

He then went back up the stairs to Gilbert's floor, where he found his brother continuing to cough in between low moans. Ludwig tapped Gilbert's shoulder insistently.

"Bruvver!" He exclaimed. "Look what I have!"

Gilbert rolled over and looked. Ludwig had already removed the lid and was trying to spoon some up. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.

"That won't help me," Gilbert sighed.

"Yes it will! I remember you gave me this when I was sick, and I got better really fast. This can help you, too."

"No, Lud. It won't help."

"But you're sick. This can make sickness go away. It doesn't taste that bad."

"I'm sure it doesn't, but my sickness is different from yours. I'm not a human like you. I'm a fairy. You know that."

"But—"

"I was _born_ very sick, Ludwig. When fairies get sick, it's a lot worse than when humans get sick. Nothing can cure me. Not even a potion."

"But you're going to die," Ludwig whimpered. "Let me help. I love you. Please don't die."

Gilbert smiled as if the world had been given to him in the smallest of packages. "I won't die. Who would read you stories and take you into town, then?"

"N-no one."

"That's right. For your sake, I will not let myself die. All I need is rest. Fairies heal fast. If you want, you can bring me some tea for my throat. Just don't burn yourself. And I love you too, Lud."

* * *

 _I've probably been the reason why Gilbert's lived so long in that weak shape,_ Ludwig thought gravely. _Alfred didn't have nearly as many scars on his body. Gilbert_ _must be old for a changeling, but he still acts so immature. Not even a proper letter back after I wrote him a long one. No context to his note. A duke? What duke? Am I supposed to know what he means by this? Is it a changeling code? Killing a duke? Or is he serious? What has Gilbert been hiding from me?_

"What are you thinking about?" Feliciano asked from across the campfire. The fairy sat his chin in his hands. His wings were up and out to be warmed by the flames.

"I was just thinking about my brother and how he took care of me when I was little."

"Do you miss him?"

"I'm a bit worried about him. I expected a longer letter back."

"You should write another letter to him. We have his bird." Feliciano stroked the yellow bird, which had taken up residence in his lap and was napping under the moonlight.

"In the morning," Ludwig replied, "when my hands work as hands."

Feliciano gave a giggle to this and fluttered his wings. "Lovi used to tuck me into bed at night when my mother was still downstairs at supper being hostess. Suppers in Allegria always last for hours. My extended family is huge, too, and we have a lot of friends, so meals can go late into the night. It's probably the reason why I can sleep through pretty much anything."

"I was wondering about that. _Ja,_ Gilbert gave me medicine when I was sick. He did everything for me. I never knew my parents." And since he was already on that path, he added, "My father died of sickness before I was born, and my mother died in childbirth."

The wings slowed. Feliciano clutched a hand to his heart. His brows raised in distress. "You never knew your parents? That's so sad! You were all alone as a _bambino,_ then? No family? Or, or did you have aunties and uncles or a fairy godfather?"

"I had Gilbert," he said with finality. Perhaps he shouldn't have swung the conversation in this direction, much less spun another lie. Feliciano looked downright heartbroken at the fabrication. Ludwig averted his gaze and looked to the treeline. Lovino was looking for more firewood, and Kiku had volunteered to accompany him.

Feliciano broke his anxious thoughts. "My papà died before I was born, too."

"He — he did?"

"Yeah. Lovi remembers him a little, but I never met him. He was Grandpa Roma's son. His name was Gianfranco, but everyone called him Gigi."

 _Gigi!_ Ludwig thought with alarm. _So that's the one Roma mentioned. His son — Feliciano's father._ His heart twisted a little. This was getting a bit too deep. He felt like an intruder.

"I just know he had auburn hair, too, and he inherited Grandpa's voice before I did. He could sing spells just like me, only he went to school to learn how to use his powers. Sometimes I feel like I know him when I sing. Or maybe I'm singing for him. I don't know if he can hear me, though. " Feliciano stared into the flames. The light reflected in his eyes like molten gold. "He was turned to stone. Something evil did it."

Ludwig looked pensive at the fairy. Something evil in Allegria? Was there even a chance?

"Sorry, Doggie. This isn't really a happy thing to talk about. I hope you don't feel upset. I just never got to meet my papà, and I'm used to having a big family, so... "

"I'm not upset. I didn't know that about you. How are your scissors holding up?"

"Ah, they're still here," the fairy replied. He pulled them out of his belt and showed his companion. "And what are you going to use the amulet for, Doggie?"

"Making cakes."

"Oh, yum! I want some cake. Or some biscotti. Doggie, when we get to Allegria, I'm going to make biscotti with real sugar. And I'll invite you to supper with my family. I'll introduce you to my mamma. She was born in Piamenta, so that's where my Vargas comes from. Then you can have real wine from the grapes in the vineyards."

"It sounds wonderful, Feliciano. Your way of life sounds very relaxing, actually. I may enjoy it."

"Oh, you will, I promise! I'll even teach you some words. Fusilli, ravioli, cavatappi, anellini, rotini — oh, those are all pasta, and you learn which is which eventually. Then there's wine. My family's always been known for being picky with wine. And we always nap in the afternoon~"

"Er, yes, I would like to see how you live your life. You can explain all of this to me when we get to Allegria, though. For now, I think it's time I went to sleep."

"Your curse."

"My curse."

Ludwig lay in the soft grass wrapped in his cloak. He shut his eyes and turned away from the fire. Feliciano shifted so his back faced the flames and his wings could warm faster. He hummed a bit. The notes buzzed in the wind. A small yellow flame appeared in cupped hands, and he smiled at the achievement. Feliciano held it close to his chest. He sighed in comfort.

"Doggie?" He asked after perhaps five minutes.

" _Ja?"_

"What is it like to have a tail?"

"What is it like to have wings?" Ludwig reciprocated a bit irritably.

"My wings? Well, they're just a part of me, I guess. I can move them with these strong muscles in my back. I wouldn't say they feel like my arms or legs do, but they can sense heat and cold, and I know when they've brushed against something. They're not heavy, either. Super light. Now tell me about your tail, please?"

"My tail is a part of me I try to pretend isn't there. Your wings serve a purpose. My tail doesn't."

"Your tail does, too! It shows when you're happy. It always wags when you're happy. You were wagging your tail just the other night when I sang for you and Lovi and Kiku. Can you move it on your own?"

"Of course I can move it on my own. See?" He wiggled his tail around under the fabric. "I'm really tired. Let me sleep now. I'll talk to you about trivial things tomorrow after I've changed back."

" _Buonanotte,_ Doggie."

" _Gute Nacht."_

* * *

Someone thought it would be a good idea to start telling scary stories around the Mercs' campfire.

"So anyway, it's said that one bite from the vampire bat of Dorrow's Shack can result in insomnia, chills, headaches, and an unquenchable thirst for _the blood of men!"_ Alfred complemented the exclamation by sharpening his nails and canine teeth even further.

"Scary," breathed Matthew.

Arthur leaned forward. "How long does it take to gain this thirst? I believe you bit me not too long ago."

Alfred ignored him. "They say that at night, when vampires get _really_ thirsty, they roam the countryside searching for unfortunate victims to bite."

"Hm, just like you."

A mild look of irritation. "You can't protect yourself once a vampire smells you. They go mad for fresh blood, and they can turn invisible to hunt undetected. You can try hiding, but the scent becomes stronger the thirstier they get. Human? Fair folk? It doesn't matter what you are as long as you're warm and alive. And if you're running through the woods and happen to cut yourself on a thorn? You're already dead, then."

"Or unconscious in a ditch with your clothes and shape stolen."

His fist clenched. "I can make that happen if that's what you want, milord."

Arthur shrank back. "That won't be necessary."

But low, nervous laughter had already run 'round the campfire ending back at the storyteller and his suitable appearance.

"Look, Artie, I don't know what I did to piss you off today, but can you let me talk? We're trying to have a good time. I don't wanna have to threaten you with something I won't even do so I can have my say. Vampires are dangerous. I'm not."

"You punched me three times today, and as much as I enjoyed my little slam, the third one really did hurt. Perhaps you won't swap with me, but biting and hitting is no better."

"You basically called me ugly. That's not the first time, either. I'm being totally honest when I say I don't like being called that, you get me? Not saying I'm mad, but just a note for the future. And about that bite on your hand? Grow up already. It's healed. It's gone."

Arthur slumped. His fierce expression abated. "You could've just politely said you didn't like the slights instead of resorting to physical violence. If there's anything you should learn, it's to control your impulses. And anyway, I was defending myself with wit. You should use an equal weapon."

"But that would be Alfred," Ivan cut in. "The dog-man fighter."

"Yep! Trebby-on!"

Francis cringed at his pronunciation.

Yao rolled his eyes. "I want to hear the rest of the story. No interruptions."

"Well, there's nothing really more to tell," Alfred replied. "I'm just saying fanged, snake-eyed, bloodthirsty vampires exist. That's all."

"R-really?" Squeaked Matthew, who shivered at the sight of Alfred's very real fangs.

Francis averted his gaze haughtily. "It was cute, but I much prefer my story about the haunted catacombs."

"That was scary!" Matthew whined.

"I'll admit that one was scary," Arthur remarked. "Anyway, scary stories are getting a bit out of hand."

"Only 'cause you had to keep making stupid jokes during mine. I'll blame it on that wine Francy shared earlier. You shouldn't drink, dude. It makes you weird."

"We should sing," Arthur continued. "I'll teach us a tavern song from where I come from."

"You _are_ drunk if you think I'm going to sing," Yao scoffed.

But Arthur had already raised his voice to an atrocious key and drove into the first verse of an age-old ballad of nonsense:

" _ **There's a wizard in the northern land as ugly as the day.  
He was slaughtered in a half-page by a king all gold and gay,  
Who was strong and brave and unafraid and faithful was his little dog,  
Yes, faithful was his little dog that came when it was called~"**_

"I feel like we're summoning the demons!" Alfred yowled.

"You called?"

"He's making his voice bad on purpose," Yao said.

"And what if I am? My real singing voice is every bit as pleasant as my music casting brother _Gareth's._ And I'm not drunk. I just think music would help us to bond better in this cold weather and hopeless endeavor. After all, not having Feliciano to sing for us is proof of how hopeless we are."

"It's not hopeless yet," said Francis. "Besides, you've been enjoying it. I think when we started, you only said you devoted yourself out of some childish spite, but now you're becoming increasingly fond of the task."

"Not a chance," replied Arthur. "I still hate this mission with a burning passion. I'm going to ask the master of this rude mockery for an orchard of golden apples and a small wyvern to guard it."

"To stand next to your castle?" Asked Yao.

"Precisely. Next to my castle and adjacent to my unicorn pasture. Why, my unicorns will be able to reach their long necks out and grab the apples right off the trees."

Alfred looked to him with interest. "You got it all planned out, huh? I haven't even thought about my reward. I've just been here for poor Feli, but that stuff sounds nice. I'd like a place of my own out in the country where I can see the stars. Oh, and maybe I'll get enough to hire a personal chef."

"Ask for that much. Tell the writer you fought the dog-man with your bare hands. Show that nick in your ear. Say you were pinned to the ground and escaped only by sheer force of will," Arthur put.

"I would like to ask for Amotoile," said Ivan.

"You can't have Amotoile," Francis chided.

"Why not? It is agreeable country."

"The one who summoned us does not own Amotoile. They can't give you Amotoile. And Amotoile is not looking to be annexed at the moment. You're all getting terribly preoccupied with this 'reward' business anyway. Don't lose sight of what this mission is really about."

But no one wanted to listen to Francis.

"If I cannot have Amotoile, I will settle for Volkerburg. I have heard Volkerburg looks like a sparkling wonderland under a blanket of snow."

Yao shook his head. "You will not get a country as a reward. You are a king. You already have one. Several, really, with the other demon lands."

"I suppose you are right. I wonder how my pretty kingdom of snow is doing right now. I miss the large frozen feasts in the palace, but I missed my sisters, too."

"You're lucky you've got siblings who are nice to you," said Arthur.

"No way. My sisters are crazy. I can barely catch a breath around them, but they are family, so I still miss them when I am at home."

Alfred turned his head. "You don't miss your brothers at all?"

"Of course not. They're downright mad, all of them. Mad and mean-spirited as the night wind."

"How many did you say you had?" The changeling donned a pensive expression and fidgeted with his glasses.

Arthur made quick work of counting on his fingers. "The eldest, my step-brother Cearul; then Allistor, Gareth, and myself; and my youngest brother Jack, who came after my mum remarried. That's five. And I must have been pinched by a boggart because I'm the only one with blond hair."

If Matthew, who had heard Arthur say he in fact had five brothers besides himself, was going to object, he did not, for he was distracted. Ivan had furtively turned away from the rest of them and was fidgeting with his left boot. He attempted with slight frustration to lodge his hand between the confines of the boot and his foot. His hand proved to be much too large to fit in the small space, so he ended up pulling it out completely.

And when pulling his hand out caused the whole boot to come flying off, Matthew gasped.

"Hooves."

"You say something, Mattie?"

"Ivan has hooves."

It was simple as that. Instead of a muscular leg and foot slipping out of the boot, it was a slender, knobbly goat leg covered in scruffy white fur, and at the base of it, a shiny black cloven hoof. Ivan quickly snatched the boot up again and tried to shove the hoof back in, but the rest of them had already seen. The demon's face flushed nearly purple.

"Ivan has hooves," Alfred repeated in intrigue.

"Don't gawk at him," Francis warned. "Snow demons are also known as giant fauns, you know."

"But _hooves,_ " Matthew murmured. "You have two legs and hooves just like I thought everyone else had."

"Yes," Ivan said weakly. By this time, he had shoved the hoof away completely and brought himself forward again to face everyone else. He pulled the scarf up to hide his purpling nose.

"Aw, he's self-conscious!" Alfred cooed. "Don't worry, big guy. We're all weird here."

"I'm not weird," Yao scoffed.

"It's an illusion charm on those boots then," Arthur remarked, "And I'm assuming on those trousers as well."

"Please do not mention my hooves," Ivan begged.

Alfred shrugged. "The rest of you speaks for itself. It's not like we need to see your hooves to know you're demonic. You have horns, too."

"But is bad luck. People always say demon with hooves is bad luck and evil, so I try to hide them when I visit."

Alfred fell silent at this remark.

Ivan then tried to get past his insecurity and held up what must have been hidden in the boot along with his hoof. It was a blue cloth pouch not unlike the one which held the Invisibility Dust. Ivan struggled to pull it open with his massive claws. But flustered by his current situation and struggling with such huge hands, he gave the pouch to Alfred.

"Take green and blue pebble and throw them into fire," he instructed.

Alfred pulled open the pouch. The contents were indeed smooth colored pebbles, each seemingly with its own internal temperature. He dug out a blue pebble which felt cool and pleasant in his fingers, and a green one that felt like a cold winter's day. With a low toss, they both landed in the pile of ash between two burning logs. They ignited immediately and melted down into black smudges.

"Come," Ivan said.

The fire flared higher and hotter. Each man shielded his eyes and cowered on the ground behind his seat. Arthur asked some question regarding something magical, but it was drowned out by the deafening licks of flame flying a bit too close for comfort. Even Ivan had to turn his back to the sweltering heat. Alfred swore. He clutched his ears as if he were listening to Feli's song. He was sure some hair had been singed.

Then the fire died completely, and in its place was only wispy smoke and the sound of low, pained moaning.

"Rules in ice yet summons by the fire!" A weak tenor cried.

"I would handle ice. I'm used to it. But fire is too much," coughed another.

"I nearly burned, and I am the Capricorns!" Cried the first one again.

Alfred peered over the rock he'd taken refuge behind. The fire ring had been blackened with soot, and white ash floated like snowflakes around the two victims of Ivan's summoning. There was only one, it seemed, before the larger pulled himself into a sitting position to reveal he had fallen on top of the other.

"That was a ruddy terrible summoning," Arthur whispered near. "He shouldn't have even brought out those summoning stones. They should be heated slowly, not tossed carelessly into open flame. The big fool knows nothing about magic besides how to freeze things."

But Alfred was more interested in the visitor who had finally managed to stand amid the blackened, shrunken logs and billowing smoke. If Ivan was self-conscious about his hooves, he should've felt lucky his legs weren't skinny and scaly and ending in three-toed talons.

He wore a sort of blue sleeveless suit and tie ending in shorts above his long bird legs. On his face and neck, his skin was a bare mottled green, but the rest of him was covered in iridescent blue-and-teal plumage, including downy blue hair. There was an extravagant feathered tail flowing out from under his vest, and instead of arms, he possessed two extensive wings with tiny clawed hands at each elbow. His ears were long and pointed and feathered as well, and his nose was curved slightly like a beak. Behind smart glasses, the green eyes were eagle-like, yet in this time they looked wildly around to make sense of the creature's sudden displacement.

"That's gotta be a wind demon — a harpy," Alfred remarked. "Screw two legs with hooves. I want two legs with wings for arms."

"A male one," said Yao, kneeling near. "Male harpies are rare and very magical. At one time, I managed to obtain the tail feather of one, though it cost me almost a year's sale of herbs."

"You greedy twit, that harpy is a person with feelings," Arthur chided. "You'd sell Alfred's blood in pints if his back was turned."

Alfred glowered at both of them.

"K-king Rossiya Ivan Braginsky, Your Majesty," the harpy chuckled nervously. "What service do you require?"

"Yes, you must be in dire need of some service," said the other as he stood. This demon — the Capricorn — was only about four feet tall, and very goatish, with no boots to cover the curly sandy fur and hooves. Despite his small size, his horns arced thick and shell-colored over his head like a fully-grown ram's. Shiny blue scales emerged from his pale skin in places, and his blue eyes had a perpetually watery look, as if he worried himself much too often. He also possessed a long blue fishtail, which swung nervously behind him.

"Nothing much," said Ivan. Even these two words worked their way into the servants' spines and pulled them up straighter. "I only want to know how my kingdom is doing while I am gone."

The servants flashed each other looks, and the Capricorn, who must have usually been the first to speak under pressure, said, "It is doing very poorly." Then, under a sharp look from his harpy companion, he added, "Because you are not home. You are missed, Your Majesty. Of course, there are some who do not really miss you. S- _some,_ but most prefer your absence — presence! I mean presence! Yes, we would like you to come back as soon as you can. We need changes to be made in the kingdom—"

"Without your rule, it is hard to make progress in the kingdom's endeavors," the harpy said over his ineffective friend. "There is no one to guide us or inform us of important matters."

"Though it is really the okays if you want to be gone longer," said the Capricorn. The harpy spread a wing and filled his mouth with feathers.

"Why haven't you yet returned?" He then asked. "People have been wondering. I don't think it's the wises to leave the General in charge. He is only a spirit. He can't rule like you."

"I trust General Winter. He is powerful spirit. He listens to me. I told him to keep watch, and I am sure he does this," Ivan said.

At this time, Alfred's curiosity regarding the wings got the best of him, and he returned to his seat on the rock. He sent a smile to the harpy, who, upon noticing him, shivered a bit. The Capricorn, on the other hand, took one look at Alfred and, with a yelp, jumped behind the harpy and trembled like his form was completely liquid.

Ivan looked to Alfred and realized the trouble. "Alfred is friend," he explained. "Yes, he is little changeling and not as smart as he says, but he is useful and good leader. I have to tell you about mission. These are my companions."

"I _am_ smart," Alfred protested.

The harpy looked at the changeling with a sense of muted awe. "Ah, well, I've met a changeling before. Very nice people, though a bit hyper. My name is Eduard von Bock — wind demon and an advisor and singer for the king." He offered forth one of his little talon-hands, and Alfred grabbed it to inspect and scrutinize more than shake. He held onto it for quite a few seconds while Eduard tried awkwardly to both pull back and let Alfred look.

The other Mercs got less shy now and started to emerge from their hiding places.

"I am called Raivis," said the other.

"Your full name," Eduard reminded him.

"Raivis Galante, water demon and the king's advisor and storyteller."

"A Capricorn!" Francis sang upon seeing him. "I have always wanted to see one! So cute!"

"And lucky," Yao murmured.

"Oh," breathed Raivis, and in the heat of so much attention, his cheeks really did turn a pleasant tropical blue and liquefy into undulating pools.

"I brought this bag of summoning stones so that I may talk to my best servants if I need to," Ivan explained.

Arthur scowled. "Yes, well, you don't understand how to use those. I can almost say you made them haphazardly as well. Magic isn't a toy. It can involve harnessing very dangerous energies. You must use it correctly and with caution or you could end up in a world of trouble. That little _water_ demon of yours said he nearly fried."

Raivis looked as if he were going to clap for Arthur's defense of him. Clearly, he had never seen anyone oppose his king before.

"I do know how to use those stones. I toss them in fire. Even Alfred could do it."

Alfred stiffened. His blue eyes burned. In impulse, he raised his fist, but Arthur managed to force it down before he could strike the demon.

Instead, Alfred then used his words. "Stop bullying me! I've had both my appearance and intelligence slighted today, and if Arts says I'm not allowed to hit friends, I'm going to _politely tell_ you to quit it! Please! You can't call me a good leader and stupid in the same sentence! And I'm _not_ stupid!"

"Who is he with such confidence? I'm trying to use demonsight, but he's just an ordinary guy!" Eduard whispered harshly to Raivis.

"He stands up to the king so easily. He must be the heroes," the Capricorn replied.

Alfred overheard this and walked over to pet Raivis on the head between his oversized horns. The little demon's hair had the texture of coarse, wet sand. "I _am_ a hero. Thank you."

Feeling somewhat more pleased with himself, Alfred assisted Matthew in sitting on his rock again, as he had been struggling with getting up, and then plopped himself down next to him.

Ivan then explained the mission in the way he explained all things: simply yet with blunt statements and unnecessary details. Every so often one of his companions would have to add something in or lead him away from gratuity, (as if the quality of the summary even mattered to two lowly servants,) and when all was told, Eduard's question was as predictable as rain on the Isle.

"How long will this mission take you?" The harpy inquired. He rustled his wings with hopefulness and stole glances at Raivis.

"I do not know," said Ivan. "When do you think the mission will be done with?" The question was directed at everyone and no one.

"Soon," Francis said with finality. "If we can quicken our pace, we will have stopped Ludwig in no time."

"Ever the optimist," Arthur drawled.

"Ever the epitome of arrogance," Francis bit.

"Ever the hero!"

The two looked at Alfred with confused glares, and he challenged them with the don't-question-me gaze of an eagle.

"We need to know where Ludwig is going," said Ivan.

"He's going to Allegria," offered Yao. "We need to know where he _is._ Then we will confront him."

"Confronting it is," Alfred agreed. "They already know we exist. They're completely aware of us. Heck, they've even seen me in this form and know what I am. All truths told and all bridges burned. There's only one way to do this, and that's to abandon secrecy."

But Arthur was skeptical. "Not so fast. As soon as we find them, we can decide on a strategy. I do disagree with you on the subject of secrecy. Ludwig does know what you are. That could be used against you, you know. It could become very dangerous for you."

"You're suggesting I take a different shape while I'm around them?"

"That would work, yes."

"I never thought I'd ever hear you say that."

"What did I—" Arthur bit his lip. "No, no, no. You can't."

"Because I'd either have to be one of my companions or knock out some poor sucker, and you don't want me to do either of those things, do you? One would be 'creepy', as Yao puts it, and the other would be what? Morally wrong?"

"I do not see the trouble if he steals someone else's shape for an afternoon, just as long as it is not mine," Yao said.

"But you can't, Alfred," Arthur protested. "I won't allow it. Not another person. A sparrow in my pocket, or a giant eagle even, but not another person. Not even a human."

"Dude, you _watched_ me change into Feliciano. Besides, word travels. Changeling in Lafée, changeling in Fleur de Vie. I get that a lot of sightings take place in Amotoile, but I might have people after me. It's a serious concern. I gotta feel safe. I gotta trust my gut sometimes."

"But you can't just _take_ someone's…"

"When the time comes, we can discuss it further," Francis said, but his pale complexion revealed he was in just as much shock. Furtively, he poured himself another glass of wine.

"So you are saying you are going to be gone for great while, then?" Raivis asked.

"Indefinitely?" Eduard corrected.

"There are many complications with your mission," said the first.

"Setbacks."

"Yes, setbacks. You are proving yourselves to be the failures."

"Not as good as the writer in… ten… ded… _Raivis!"_

 _"I_ am not failure," Ivan told them. A chill wind whipped up, and crackling ice crept along the ground from where his boots met it. A faint glow emanated from his horns. And he smiled that terrible smile. A mask covering intentions no one could even begin to guess. Whatever they were, the two demons huddled together. Eduard's smart expression erased itself immediately.

Alfred opened his mouth, then closed it.

"Now, Ivan started, "Everything is good in my kingdom?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Eduard squeaked. "It is all good. The fields of snow still sparkle like you like them, and all the wind demons have been wearing makeup so they are not sparklier. We would like you back, but we could wait."

"Okay. That is really all I wanted to know. Now, how do I send you back? I think I have to burn these other two pebbles. Or, there is one other spell I could try. I could always have you with me, then. You would be locked inside objects. I would like to put Raivis inside water pipe I pulled out of Francis' yard. Perhaps then it could still be working."

"You pulled out my water pipe?"

"That's difficult magic, and I'm sure you don't know how to do it," Arthur snapped. Arguing with anyone but Alfred would work for him at this point.

"No, is okay. We will just use demon mirror to go back," Raivis said.

"Yes, yes, we will be on our way if you do not require anything else," Eduard added, trembling.

"Not at the moment, but I still have summoning stones. And perhaps if you can create demon mirrors, you should visit me, little Raivis. I did tell you to visit me with news when I first left."

"Yeah, yeah, maybe!" The Capricorn laughed.

Raivis then held out his hands, which were in fact encased in scales and webbed with bluish-tinted membranes. The night grew cool, and a sheet of fog formed to separate demons and Mercs. From moisture in the air condensed an floating liquid mirror that reflected its maker and his companion. With Eduard linking his wing with Raivis' arm, the two hastily stepped through it and vanished. The mirror fell and splattered on the ground.

"So demons do travel by mirrors," Arthur remarked.

"Demon mirrors. Only water demons can make them," Ivan replied. "They really travel by reflections in water. They probably came out of reflection on my frozen pond. The surface often melts and reflects the mountains. It was Raivis who made mirror for me to come here. He is good at such things."

"So lucky," Yao muttered irritably.

"I thought I saw a demon's reflection in a pond once," Matthew said. "I kicked it with my hoof, and it disappeared. My hoof. It almost feels weird to say that."

"Yet you still can't walk," Alfred jabbed.

"The fire's gone!" Arthur exclaimed to interrupt the various tensions. "I'd say that means we should try to sleep. After all, we've got people to chase, people to knock senseless, people to save, and most importantly, people to ask money from."

Alfred yelled, "Dilly Dilly!"


	41. Visions Revisited

"Send me to get the firewood. Yes, just me. No one else. I'm the wood-fetcher, dammit."

"To be civil, Rovino-san, your brother and Doggie-san have fetched wood before."

"Not for two nights in a row," Lovino remarked. "No, this is my second night. What, is it because I'm good at botanical magic? Do they think I can just grow firewood from nothing? Felice could try it, too. He could sing to make plants grow. But then I'd really be in trouble. ' _Sì,_ the elder brother is a garden fairy. His younger brother? Also a garden fairy, but also a music caster.' 'Music caster, you say? Well, just give him all the money. Who wants _pranzo?_ '"

"I cannot tell if you are speaking to me or yourself."

"I'm speaking."

"Are you speaking to the plants?"

"Yes, I'm speaking to the plants. No! Just, just, sometimes I speak to relieve stress. We all do that. Just like, eh, Doggie said. He talked to that bird that nearly clawed an eye out. I'll give Felice points for singing it to sleep. Let's just hope it doesn't follow us."

"Yes, that would be unfortunate. It was a wise decision to bury the wand tonight."

"An extra precaution. Any smart creature would take one look at that monster and fly all the way to the North Sea. Or to the demon lands. Have its blood frozen by a snow demon. Or better yet, a broken wing. You know what? Four broken wings. All the wings broken. Call me a wingless fairy _._ I can use all magic under the sun except to straighten my teeth and make a corset breathable. Those poor ladies."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"You really aren't from around here, are you?"

"No, I am trying to understand the world of the living, but there are many things I still need to learn."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about fairies from the Isle of Rain. Yes, they're terrifying, and their cuisine is even more terrifying, but they have idiosyncrasies that are just worth laughing at. Even the fact that they can't fly is a little pitiful. Sure, there are spells to fly without wings, but magic's cheating. It's like humans who think they can be magic-users. _Wizards._ You know wizards like to enchant brooms to fly? _Brooms._ Why brooms? You see a man flying through the sky, and what's he flying on? A broom. Not even something modern and stylish like a flying bicycle, but the household broom. No, no, only people with wings should fly, and if your ears aren't pointy, why play with what you don't understand…?"

Kiku slowly tuned out the rambling. Lovino often talked like this — beginning with one topic and slanting into another with little breath between. And every new thought possessed a unique set of gesticulations which Lovino wouldn't hesitate to perform with solid conviction.

Life must have dealt Lovino difficulty, Kiku thought. Enough difficulty to plaster that frown on his face and that fire in his eyes. How long had he toiled in sweat and blood and sacrificed hours of sleep to become so bitter to life?

Speaking of fire, something bright caught Kiku's attention beyond a tree ahead of them. Seeing that the fairy made no reaction to its presence, it must have been a fellow spirit.

Kiku walked through a tree toward the glowing creature. He stooped down to inspect it, as it took up residence on a fallen log.

It was nearly spherical, but the constitution of its body remained misty and amorphous like a cloud. Its body would swell and shift slightly and bulge in points, then retreat back into itself and pulse with a dull, internal light. It didn't really sit on the log, but rather floated above it with roiling mist kissing the bark in places as it rested.

"Oh, hello," Kiku wished it.

The creature emitted a hum in return.

"If I may, what kind of spirit are you? I believe I have seen one like you before, but it was rather shy around me and disappeared."

Then the creature's body rippled more violently than before. The "surface" of the mist swirled and undulated madly. It began to stretch out of its spherical shape and into a new one. A short body formed, followed by four short legs and a stumpy tail. The head came last, with pointy ears and a flattish face. When the mist settled, the spirit appeared to condense. The mist shrank down over the new shape and became more solid. Dots of color emerged. Black fur sprouted up and covered most of its body and face, while white fur covered the rest. The new eyes flickered and deepened into a soft golden-brown. The stumpy tail fluffed up.

The cat-mirror seemed to smile up at him.

Kiku was taken aback. He had never witnessed this before. So this was a shapeshifting spirit, and by the looks of it, a familiar. Kiku knelt down more and petted the cat between the ears. It gave a purr, somewhat reminiscent of his own voice.

"A familiar familiar," he remarked. "You can resemble your muse, and very well."

Just as he said this, another spirit jumped up to join the first one. This one had taken the shape of a puffy cat with a squinty-eyed smile and a strange curl on the left side of its head. The pure image of Feliciano.

"Fairy-ciano," he muttered. "A familiar which looks like my friend…" Then, in utter revelation, he brought his hand away from the Kiku-cat and just stared at the pair of them.

"Fairy-ciano mentioned he saw cats that all looked like his friends. And they disappeared… could he have seen familiars like you two? Impossible! How could he have seen? And _touched?_ Perhaps he has a hidden gift, but that does not explain the ability to _touch_ a spirit."

There came a sudden bout of conflicted sniffling from nearby. Still stumbling around was Lovino in another passionate rant to no one in particular.

"None of them liked me, dammit! None of them liked me! It's their fault I was expelled! I was perfectly powerful enough to continue on. I _showed_ them how powerful I was! But it wasn't enough for them, was it!? No, they said 'Work harder' and 'You can be stronger' and 'Stop using the library as a nap room.' I'm sorry, but if I had a natural talent concerned with sleeping, would you be any different? Or is that not even a legitimate talent, eh? And oh, why don't we just not shut up about the fact that my little brother might be enrolling in a few years as if the fate of the world depends on him. Yes, he's _definitely_ the lost prince of some tragically deadened planet."

"Rovino-san, could you come over here?" Kiku asked. His voice pricked through the cobwebs of Lovino's sudden madness, and the fairy turned to look.

"Why are you squatting like that?" Lovino asked as he approached.

As Kiku watched, the familiar spirit which looked like him began to change once more. Its fur colors shifted with black becoming brown and receding up from below its eyes to be a spot on its head. Its eyes grew squinted and judging and its split lips into a twisted frown. A curl of fur sprouted from the front of its head. The tail grew long and poofy like the Feli-cat's.

And then it was a Lovi-cat.

"Tell me, can you see them?

"See what?"

"They appear to be cats, but they are familiar spirits. Familiar familiars. One strongly resembles you, and the other resembles Fairy-ciano."

"Where?"

"In front of me on this log. Can you see them? Even a flicker or a distortion in the air?"

Lovino cocked his head and peered strangely at where Kiku pointed. Then he crossed his arms. "I don't see anything, but tell me if you find any more six-colored rainbow mushrooms. I could use a break from reality."

"I do not understand that reference either, though somehow I feel I should. These are real spirits, and I think they may be the ones Fairy-ciano saw."

"Oh, so Felice can see spirits now? Perfect. Let's dress him up in bows and give him a wand powered by love."

" _You_ can see me, and I am a spirit."

"You used to be alive. I meant other spirits. Things from your weird world."

"I do not mean to say Fairy-ciano can see other spirits. I believe his vision was in fact a vivid dream. Familiars must be able to enter them. There is no other way to explain how he touched them."

"Probably. He has lots of dreams about cute animals. It could've been a vivid one with lots of details he only thought was real."

"It seems so."

Lovino gathered a bundle of wood in his arms, all the while continuing to complain about everything from his unfortunate expulsion from Straffino to his distaste for Ludwig's gruff, beastly snoring. He indeed used magic at points to part the way through brambles and to increase the amount of wood a fallen log or branch would produce. Several logs were wet with autumn moisture. He made quick work of these with a heat spell that turned the air white with steam.

"Are you sure you can't turn into a living man again?" Lovino huffed as they followed the path out of the last copse. His arms strained to hold such a heavy load.

"I have tried many times. I grasp at my side and attempt to pull out a sword, but no sword appears. Neither do I see any more visions of my past life. I was not even able to do it when Doggie-san was near Alfred again in the city. I simply cannot understand what happened. Could it really be that Doggie-san was in true mortal danger when the demon attacked him, and that was the reason? Perhaps my vision was of when I drew the sword to take my own life, and some part of me knew I had to save his."

"If you want to test that, it's not happening. I've had it with demons. I don't want to be within a hundred kilometers of a demon, especially _that_ demon. And changelings I loathe just as much. That stupid, hideous changeling made me sleep-deprived and uncoordinated in the first place. It's its fault I can't fly. Everyone was so worried about it, and that demon _protected_ it."

"But Alfred did not tell the demon to attack you. It cannot be his fault."

"I hate changelings."

"Is hate a very strong emotion?"

"The strongest."

"I may have hated, then," said Kiku in a thoughtful sort of way.

"Hm, well, you must have hated yourself if you died by your own hand."

"There was nothing else to do but take my life. My offense was truly severe. I may have hated someone else. A river spirit told me soon after I woke up in this realm I killed someone very important — someone I should not have killed. I wish I could remember more, but it would probably be better to be ignorant of my past sins."

Lovino shifted a few inches away. "You killed someone, eh?"

"Yes. She claimed she watched me kill this person before driving the sword into myself. Of course, I did not remember doing so, but I told her I did not want to hear any more."

"You had guts. I feel something… er, respect. Or, should I be afraid?"

"I am not such a man!" Kiku exclaimed. "No, no, do not believe I would murder anyone. I am not the man I was. Only his shadow. His distant shadow. I have no memory of killing this important person. My memories are only the peaceful ones I have made in the spirit realm. I have performed hundreds of good deeds."

"I get it. You're sorry."

"Indeed, though I must have truly hated this person if I killed him or her, and it must have been a powerful person indeed. Obviously, I realized a great mistake had been made immediately after my offense."

"But maybe this person shattered every bone in your leg."

"Maybe…"

When they returned the the camp, only Feliciano was found awake. He shivered in his bedroll. He hummed softly, and yellow tongues of flame licked over his body without burning him. The fairy looked longingly at the new bundle of wood. Lovino piled new logs onto the ashes.

"Fairy-ciano, I saw something in the forest that may interest you. Do you remember the dream you had about the kitties?"

Feliciano yawned. "That wasn't a dream, I swear. I really saw those kitties, and I really pet them."

"But you have had vivid dreams before."

"True, but I swear this was real."

"The cats you saw were familiar familiars. They are minor spirits that are able to transform into the likeness of oneself and his friends. I saw them when I was with Rovino. They took the shapes of you, Rovino and me, but as cats."

Feliciano sat bolt-upright. "You saw the kitties? The one that looked like you was black and chubby with a stumpy tail, right? And the one that looked like me was white, and it had a little curl like mine. And it was _smiling!_ Did they look like that?"

"Yes, exactly as you describe. My conclusion is that familiar familiars can enter dreams, and that is how you were able to see and touch them."

"A dream… I guess it really was a dream. But I swear it was real. I remember waking up because the cat that looked like me rubbed itself against me, and it was singing. Then after I got to pet all the kitties, I went back inside my room, and I remember falling asleep. Or did I? I know I woke up the next morning. Doggie said it was a dream, but he was grumpy that day. I suppose I really did touch them, though, and I can't touch you."

Kiku heard a soft mewing. He turned back to see a familiar — this one in the shape of Feliciano — sitting poised and playful with its squinty-eyed smile and bouncing curl of fur. He reached out and grabbed it as gently as possible, then held it up to the fairy.

"Can you see it? I am holding it right now, and it looks like you! In my hands, look!"

"In your hands!?"

"Yes, a cat in my hands! It is singing! Can you hear it?"

Feliciano squinted closely. He rubbed his eyes, then cocked his head to one side. He brought himself closer and held out his hand. His outstretched fingers went right through the spirit's body.

"I can't see it," he said. "I can't feel it either. Where is it?"

"I am holding it. Your fingers are passing through. You cannot touch it, then."

"And I can't hear it. Can you hear it, Lovi?"

"He's making this up. There's nothing in his hands. He's a spirit, and you can see him."

"But there is another spirit with me," Kiku stressed. "The cat is in my hands. Neither of you can perceive its presence. This proves Fairy-ciano's vision was a dream."

Feliciano hung his head. "It really was a dream? But I… it was so _real._ The moonlight, the night air… the kitties. I could see and hear and touch them. I'm so confused."

Kiku looked down at the cat in his lap. It changed into the Kiku-cat and peered back up at him with a blank, quizzical stare. "I suppose you are not the same spirit which visited Fairy-ciano in his dream."

It continued with its stoic expression. A firm no.

"Enough about invisible cats," Lovino huffed. "I need to sleep. Where's my bed? I need to do that same spell you were doing, brother. That flame spell. Does it keep you warm enough to sleep?"

"Fairly warm, _sì._ Just don't focus too much energy, or you could burn yourself. If you make the flames perfectly, they'll just lick you and keep you warm under the blankets. It even tickles a little at first."

"I know how to do it. I just need a spell to make this ground softer and that _beast_ quieter."

The dog-man grunted in his sleep. Lovino jumped.

"Where's the next town?" The elder questioned. "It wasn't too far, right? A big one?"

Feliciano yawned. "Yeah, I don't think it was too far away. Not very far on the map, anyway. And I think it was a bigger town, too. We should be able to sleep in cozy beds there. I'm looking forward to it."

Lovino worked the spell, and little tongues of a deep green hue bathed his body in eerie light. He snuggled up on his side under the blankets. One could say Lovino did have a natural talent concerned with sleeping. All arguments aside, both brothers slumbered in minutes.

* * *

He turned over after hearing the definite sound of rustling paper.

"Just what do you think you're doing with my compilation?"

"Tryna find out your secret."

"You're supposed to read about mind-meddling. And you won't find the spell I used in that one."

"Thanks for telling me. I'll check another one," Alfred whispered with a smile.

Arthur huffed. "What unearthly hour is it, anyway? I thought you valued your sleep."

"Meh, I got hungry. Reading a bit helps me to sleep sometimes, too."

"Hunger woke you. Incredible."

"Dude, don't talk about it. I don't wanna get hungry again any faster. You guys have to eat, too."

"No, we don't have to eat or sleep or even breathe. We're all made of wood and stone. We just lumber behind you mindlessly while you devour everything in sight."

"In that case, I'd classify you as a zombie, and I'd have to bash your head in, but I'm pretty sure you do have a brain, milord. Maybe not as fast as mine, but—"

"Sod off, Alfred. I'll believe you're more ingenious than me when I see it. You can't even speak properly. Say something scientific."

Alfred set the book upside-down on his chest. He looked over at Arthur with the beginnings of disappointment apparent in his face. " _Magis umbranatus —_ fairy who is born of shadow."

"Oh, taxonomy, yes, er… I'm really sorry about asking since Ivan made you so upset earlier, but are you really smarter than you seem? You just keep boasting."

"I've got really good memory and observational skills. You think I just say a magic word and I automatically turn into whatever I want? No, I have to look at a reference and change myself where I need to be changed. Inside and out. I'm just so good at it by now my subconscious handles most of the changes and it looks like I shift seamlessly from one shape to another. Then I gotta consciously change my behavior, too. Get into the psyche of my muse. Merge our minds, so to speak. Be how he acts, thinks, feels, what he would say, how he would say it. That's all from watching and taking mental notes on every little detail I catch. You've seen my abilities in action."

"I guess that makes sense. But your brain is fashioned that way. That's all instinct. No one taught you how to shapeshift."

Alfred chewed on his lip. He knit his brow and looked up at the cold moon. "Don't forget I'm only thirteen years old with all the undesirable powers and no prior education, and I survived almost three semesters at a school for gifted fairies."

"That doesn't count. You had help."

"Not always. The dean had to deny some things. It couldn't be obvious he was helping me through. He worked an illusion here and there, but a lot of times I had to figure out how to survive on my own.

"This one class for instance. You remember when Feliciano accidentally hurt me with that frequency? Well, there's a class I'm required to attend now that I'm a sophomore. Principles of Magick II. In that class, you have to demonstrate a pure light frequency. And during the whole unit, we had to practice it in the classroom."

"Surely not."

"Oh yeah. Believe me, when I realized what Feli was doing, I ran. I've felt that frequency before, only much worse. The dean told me about it the night before they started on the unit. He did it in front of me. I… well, I cried, and it got so painful I even started reverting. But I knew how dangerous it was, then."

"Dear Titania, however did you survive the class?"

"Well, luckily, I was able to drop it later. But I wasn't gonna put up with any of it while it lasted. I secretly covered my ears whenever the teach demonstrated, then I made up excuses to leave during practice time. Started with little things. I needed the men's room, or I cut my finger. I had to be sneaky about it so there wouldn't be any visible patterns. A few times I'd get called down to the office during that hour so it'd look like I had no control. Other times I said I volunteered that hour to work in the library or I had an impromptu archery practice. Or band lessons. Or I'd be tardy on purpose because they worked on frequencies as a warm-up.

"Well, people did get suspicious eventually. I was never there when frequencies were ringing off the walls. But something must have been working because at first, they only suspected I just couldn't do it, and I didn't want to embarrass myself. I'd already proven myself pretty useless with other spells, and since my dark magic's so crazy energetic, I did have spells literally blow up in my face when I attempted them.

"That reason for suspicion didn't last too long. It was a false hope, I'd say, because one day we had a substitute who was kinna strict, and he wouldn't let me poop out early until I'd done my frequency warm-up, and he said, ' _Just do a frequency, and I'll let you go,"_ and everyone was kinna starin' at me 'cause I'd never even been there when we practiced, and a classmate offered to help me since I'd been absent so much, and I remember getting really, really white in the face. Cold sweat."

"And did you do it?"

"Geez, milord, don't interrupt. So I got really white in the face and sweaty, and people started snickering in the back of the classroom. Someone threw a pen at me. But I was trying to stay in character as 'the guy who can't do it.' 'He's not doing it 'cause he can't, not 'cause it makes him bleed from the ears.' And I couldn't do it anyway. I mean, I coulda done a dark frequency, but then _their_ ears would bleed.

"You know what that sub did? Chewed my ass. He rattled off something about how I'm supposed to be 'gifted', 'cause even _he_ got the impression I couldn't do it.

"Then he said _it."_

"What?"

"He called me out."

"He called you out."

"He said, ' _Son, if you can't do an easy little spell like that, then I'm damn certain you're a changeling.'_ I'm not exaggerating, either. He really swore at me like that. I got really upset and tried to run out of the classroom, then, but he flung the doors shut and told all the other kids to get into a corner and stay calm. They started freaking out 'cause they realized that was a pretty good reason for why I'd skip class all the time. Then the sub performed the frequency, (lemme tell you Feli is an _amateur,)_ and I went nuts and started banging on the door, but my ears started bleeding, and my head was pounding. I felt like all the dark energy in me was going to rip me apart. I fell down and started writhing on the floor. My skin paled. My teeth sharpened. My clothes grew huge around me. I screamed and screamed until I didn't sound fair anymore. I sounded fair _er._ That's who we are, you know. The fairer folk. The ones who never came out of the forest."

Arthur clasped his hands over his mouth.

"And they all started doing it, then. Frequencies. My ears and nose gushed purple blood, and the blood still in me boiled like lava. Some of 'em had scissors, and the brave ones ran toward me and pressed them to my skin. It burned like hell, but I bit their wrists with my sharp teeth. Bit a girl's finger off."

"You didn't."

"I did. And I swallowed it 'cause I was hungry. And I crawled up to the biggest one of 'em and started changing into him. Then people _really_ started freakin' out and throwing everything at me. Chairs, books, scissors, pens, anything they could get their hands on. I fought through the pain the best I could before making my way to a window. I scratched tooth and claw through the glass, then I ran away into the forest. I had to get back to the dean's house and heal before anyone saw me."

"You _were_ seen."

"Nope. The dean changed their memories and cleaned up the blood. Little memory charms. Slightly illegal, but completely undetectable. He even managed to make that girl believe a dog bit off her finger when she was a kid. I had a stern talking to when he got home. Even worse than that sub. I was surprised ol' Jones even still let me live with him. But I went back to school after I'd healed enough, and no one thought any different of me besides their other little suspicions. I've always been bullied a little 'cause it's hard to hide everything. But hey, at least I got to drop that class. Nothing lost, something gained."

Arthur's mouth hung suspended, and his eyes nearly fell out of his head. "You… you… no, that didn't happen. I don't believe a word of it. That's bonkers. That's utterly ridiculous."

"Why would I lie to my best friend?"

Weak sounds escaped his throat. "How? H- _how?_ How did you not get killed? Alfred! Those memory charms can be terribly unreliable! A-and you could've _died!"_

"What can I say? I'm good at escaping death. I've had a lot of practice over thirteen years."

"You're a ruddy reckless idiot!"

"Yeah. I'll admit it."

"Yes, you will! You're positively insane, and you'll never grow out of the mind of a child."

"Yet I still live to tell the tale."

"But why do you do these things? Why didn't you just drop the class earlier?"

"It was required, midude. I had to play fair first. It's all about keeping a low profile. I'm sure you did the same thing in your Yeets school when you practiced your illegal stuff at night."

" _Yaits,_ and you put your _life_ on the line. Now I have no doubt you purely bluff when you say you're so damn clever."

Alfred chuckled softly. "Now, that's where you're wrong, partner."

"I'm wrong? You're reckless beyond belief, and nothing can cure you. You're going to get yourself killed before your profile gets low enough. You're going to go up in flames quite literally."

He tapped his chin in crude imagination. "At least it'll be a pretty awesome way to go, but that's not my point here."

"And what is your point?"

"My point is that we started this conversation with you doubting said cleverness."

"And?"

He cracked. "Pfff, you just believed every word of my stupid improv."

"Improv… you mean to say… you charmed me into believing something so utterly ridiculous… and it wasn't even true? That entire story was an unrehearsed fabrication? You lied and I believed it!?"

"Yep, you did. The class is real, but I got exempt from being around frequencies 'cause I said I had a medical issue some other kids had. G'night, Artie. Good talk." Alfred beamed. He covered himself up and removed his glasses for the second half of the night.

Before Arthur wallowed in shock for his own remainder, he managed to squeak out a paltry few words.

"Alfred."

"Mm?"

"You've had a hint."


	42. On the Move

"My stars, what a great dream," Alfred yawned. His vision greeted him with something sagging and slightly damp. He realized it was his pillow, which he clutched close to him so tightly it remained wrinkled when he let go. Feathers shifted through his fingers.

Alfred froze at a sudden pressure. He studied his hands, frowning. His nails had lengthened considerably and thickened into a familiar set of claws. The pale skin around his fingertips was uncomfortably tight. It was growing less so, but he had caught it while it lasted.

" _Kid, you change in your sleep. This is bad."_

" _How? I wasn't even dreaming about claws! How do I—"_

" _I don't know how you do it, but you do it, and you have to control it. It's a dead giveaway. Humans will see those claws and kill you before you even wake up."_

" _But I never did it before! Or did I? It was all real, wasn't it!? My brother woke up with scratches — from me!"_

" _You're so lucky no one ever noticed, but it's dangerous. Learn to control it. Beguile yourself if you have to."_

In the present, he scowled, quickly fleshing out his fingertips and shrinking the nails. "Old habits die hard, I guess. Not even ol' Gil could kill this one."

But with the disorder aside, his mind drifted back to the vision. It really had been a most delightful dream. He vanquished a horde of zombie-Arthurs using his superbly-enhanced strength and speed, then flew himself far up into the sky to survey Sunset Country's green grandeur — because two gigantic, feathery eagle wings erupted from his back, of course. And just when it seemed he was soaring so high as to rise to consciousness, he felt himself submerging again forcefully. A hand like steel gripped his ankle and pulled him back down to earth. And it wasn't long before the culprit revealed himself to be an uncanny doppelgänger who didn't hesitate to initiate a fight…

Alfred got cocky, of course."So you're a shapeshifter, too, huh? Unfortunately, you're not the one with the crazy strength!"

"Mmph! Think you're funny, do you?" His copy accused as he threw a stinging punch into Alfred's jaw. Oh... the doppelgänger had super strength, too, and his steel-like fist vibrated like it was supercharged with infinite energy. "Well, it ain't funny, human clone! Or alien! Android! Wait, did you just say _shapeshifter?_ Whatever you are, _I'm_ the real America, and you're not, so you're just gonna hafta shut up 'n eat my fists, or I'll feed you some of England's food!"

Alfred spat out blood. "Who's England? Your mother? Or do you not have a mother since your family found out you weren't their precious child?"

"England is a _man!_ An' I'm _not_ whatever you think I am!"

"Well, geez, what are you, then? 'Cause you look just like me, and I haven't even used my powers—"

"All right! Let's go stun gun!"

The other him then pulled out a card Alfred didn't expect. He closed his eyes, and what looked like a bulbous, star-spangled pistol condensed from thin air into his hands. He pulled the trigger to shoot Alfred straight on in the chest with a bluish energy beam. Alfred expected pain, but there was only stiffness and tingling where it hit. The paralysis spread over his body in seconds, rendering him completely immobile.

"Ugh, why is it always like this? I try to make my dreams awesome, but the NPCs are always dressed weird and talk gibberish. 'England is my mother.' Did I fall asleep to PBS again? I know I'm on the couch, and I think if I focus I can feel cheese dust sticking to my fingers and face."

 _Dream?_ Alfred thought. "Oh, right! This is a dream!" He exclaimed. "I can move if I want to, dammit!" And suddenly, the venom binding his body nulled, and he slugged his twin right in the nose with a sickening _crunch._

"Fuck! Ow! Why does that _hurt!?_ And how are you moving!? My stun gun totally worked when Japan's experimental youth serum turned Italy into a monster! Great, I think it's _broken!"_ He clutched at his now-bleeding nose, strangely-framed glasses knocked askew. The gun dropped to his feet and disappeared again.

"It hurts 'cause it's _justice,_ obviously! And _you're_ the one talking gibberish!"

The doppelgänger gave a pouty look of disapproval. "Whatever, man. I already vaporized like a hundred Martian commies tonight, 'n I don't need to be pushed around by some… other me. God, I need hash browns. Rise 'n shine, America," he finished as he pinched his cheek and pulled. Then suddenly, he disappeared into thin air, and Alfred awoke soon after.

"Somehow I feel like I've met him before," Alfred remarked thoughtfully to his pillow. "His name's _America._ That's definitely familiar. Maybe he's my conscience or something. Though I don't think my conscience would try to beat me up and talk like he's from another planet."

Looking around, he realized quickly that he was the only one awake. The fire had long since died from the mist. Francis lay sleeping soundly, his hair in his eyes, and Arthur shivered as he slept, quite obviously in the throes of his own strange dream.

"Sorry I told that story," he told the sleeping fairy. "You, know, it even scared me a little, thinking what could have been. I really freaked you out, didn't I? Funny how you're scared silly of me, yet you totally flip tables if I get into any danger. You've changed, Artie. You've changed."

A soft sigh from the other side of the fire caught his attention. He crawled over to see Matthew slumbering peacefully and looking as innocent as a child. His pince-nez lay perched on his shoulder-bag, and his cane next to that.

Alfred's lip twitched.

"No, no, Al. Let's be proper. That was not an idea you just had. Not in my house. Put that sass back in your pocket. Do not take that—"

He took the cane, removed his socks, sharpened all of his nails, climbed a nearby tree, and disguised the cane as one of its undressing boughs.

"Perfect."

Any further mischief was cut because Arthur roused and blinked in the hazy morning.

"They can't do that. It's rubbish," he grumbled. "I _know_ I'm not being sent these visions, but why another one?"

"What's wrong?" Yao yawned next to Matthew.

Arthur was just miffed enough to display his feelings for once. "Oh, another bad dream. First one I've had in a while, but particularly vivid."

"Who would send you bad dreams?"

He pinked a bit. "Oh, you listened in. Well, there's always been a silly conspiracy that the Council controls people's dreams, and everything's all cloak-and-dagger. Now, it may be simply that I'm a rather cynical fellow and am prone to believing such jabber, but whenever I have dreams like this, it jumps right back into my mind."

"Stop being so worried."

The blush brightened, but Arthur just shrugged. "I've been doing too much thinking lately. They say these days too much stimulation can be detrimental to the mind and body. And perhaps being displaced from a land saturated with magic has sapped my energy levels a bit."

"Hmm, I could try pushing on some pressure points. That worked with Alfred's anxiety. You would have to tell me if it works. I have never tried it on a full fairy before. What did you dream about this morning?"

Arthur sighed. "There's another cock-and-bull conspiracy that second-offenders of the accursed Restrictive Magick Act are publicly turned into animals like everyone used to be punished for severe crimes. When I say it out loud, of course, it sounds bonkers. It's in the very Act that you can't be punished like that. And punishing a man with the sin he's being punished for goes against all common sense. But my imagination tends to run with these ideas, and they've been bothering me lately. Not that I'm afraid I'll be turned into a frog, of course."

Yao cocked his head to the side. "You would not look good as a frog."

"I know! I certainly wouldn't! I don't need green skin to complement these eyes. But the old punishments were supposed to be humiliating. That's why you had to drink the potion to transform you in front of whoever wanted to watch. Whole towns, sometimes. And I'm certain in less modern days those brews were _not_ laced with numbing agents."

"At least you keep your head."

"True, true. But animals cannot function in society without the power of speech or opposable thumbs. And being slimy or beaked will get you nowhere when looking for a partner in marriage."

"It's hard to believe that really used to happen. That it _can_ happen. I still can't believe that's really Matthew."

Arthur looked at him quizzically. "How is it hard to believe? Magic is real, my friend. See and know. You've met a demon who can defy nature and a creature that could transform into a frog and back again if he wished. By the way, where is Alfred?"

"Maybe he got hungry again."

"A logical inference. But that would mean he's eaten everything we have unless he's learned to empathize. See if you can check Francis' bag. Francis, when are you going to wake up?"

"We shouldn't disturb him. He may start whining again," Yao warned.

So Arthur was afraid of turning into a frog, huh? The changeling would definitely use that for some easy blackmail material. Maybe to get him to talk about his spell?

Arthur had said something about a hint. What Alfred couldn't understand was what he'd meant by it. Arthur told him that thick book he'd been reading out of the compilation wasn't the one containing the spell. That was helpful, but would it qualify as a hint? Hints were usually subtle and more helpful than suggestions. But Arthur hadn't said anything about the spell he cast. Only that Alfred was reading the wrong book.

Was it the wrong _kind_ of book? The book had contained a lot of powerful spells — enchantments Al assumed would get someone in loads of trouble for using. He even found Arthur's handwriting on a few pages. Green ink and elegant cursive riddled with loops and dips. The magician took notes on his spells — suggestions for better effectiveness, cross references, and little comments like _Cute spell — good fun for a Sunday._ But most importantly, Alfred had found places where Arthur marked the spells with _dates._ The dates could've meant anything, he considered, but they were in Arthur's handwriting, and they were grouped closely together with his other notes.

Arthur had been arrested a year ago. That meant the spell had been used sometime before then. But it was true Alfred hadn't yet found any dates more recent than the previous autumn. And what was the nature of the mystery spell, anyway? Obviously it was _dark,_ but all these spells were dark! That's why they were banned! Alfred couldn't know whether the spell was something Arthur had conjured up in a day, or whether it had taken him months to cast, or whether it was a curse he'd accidentally unleashed years ago that had caught up to him.

Then there was someone called Peter in Arthur's life whom he dared not speak of. According to Ivan, Peter's case was "quite funny." Peter could've really just been a local scoundrel or a changeling, but Alfred was getting smarter. It seemed all of Arthur's current inner stresses somehow related to his arrest, and with Arthur's drunk hallucinations, Peter had to be a major stress. The unknown Peter was surely a piece of the puzzle.

The other thing he knew for sure was that the spell provided sufficient evidence to correctly accuse its caster. It was probably an unstable enchantment — or perhaps it involved Arthur's blood. Too many dark spells involved blood. That didn't narrow anything down. Alfred just wanted to know what it was! He felt an insatiable urge to know like the urge to pick at a scab or hide Matthew's cane. Arthur's secrecy made him want to know.

 _Know… know… he wanted to know about my cleverness… could it be a mind-enhancing spell? Could people find out easily if he tried to make himself smarter? Yeah, he might seem weird if there was an instant change. But he said he didn't know much about mind-meddling. Ha! Another lie to throw me off, probably! He found that one book about mind-meddling pretty quick. Shifty, shifty. But who is Peter? He hates Peter…_

His wondering about Peter was interrupted by more of the others' morning conversations. Specifically, Matthew had awoken and was now aware of himself to the point of trying to stand, and he realized his cane was not where he'd placed it.

"I left my cane here next to my bed last night," he remarked. "Now it's gone." He shifted around in his belongings and blankets, but he came to the conclusion soon enough that it had simply disappeared.

"Did we get robbed?" Yao asked. "I already checked my bag, and Francis' is still full of food."

"Still full of food, eh?" Said Arthur. "That obviously means someone is either being exceedingly courteous, or there's something dubious afoot."

"Where's Alfred?" Matthew asked.

Arthur turned to the now-rousing demon. "Can you smell Alfred?"

 _Dude, do not tell them._

Ivan sniffed at the air. He looked to where Alfred sat in the upper branches of the tree. Their eyes met like hostile beams. "Little changeling? Why, he is in tree over there. See him?"

"Alfred, what are you doing up there?" Arthur inquired with a bit of an accusatory edge.

"Checkin' out scenery," he replied. "Also, it's wet down there. I wanted to sleep somewhere more comfortable."

"Rubbish, that's not comfortable for you."

"At least I won't get eaten by wolves up here."

"There are no wolves. Just tell us where you put Matthew's cane. You took it, didn't you?"

"Did I?"

"Where is it?"

"Where do you think it is?"

"He likes this game," Matthew muttered.

Arthur looked back at him. "Yes, I can tell." Then to the offender, "You do realize he can't walk without it."

"Yes, he can."

"That's very rude of you."

"Okay, milord, admit to me you gave him bum legs. Admit there was something wrong in that potion that made him too weak to walk."

"Al, please," Matthew piped up. "My legs are strong. I know they're strong, but I need it for balance. Please just tell me where it is."

"No."

"But it was expensive."

"Run to this tree, then. Run to this tree, and you can have it back."

"Run? Al, I can't _walk."_

"Running's easier than walking. You just go as fast as you can so you don't tip over forwards. Come on, run to the tree."

Arthur gave a sympathetic smile. "You don't have to, love. I can force him to give it back."

Matthew was not listening. This was a challenge. A chance to prove himself. A chance to show the rest of them his accomplishments were worth noticing, and that Alfred's teasing of him wouldn't last. He rose from his place and staked his legs out on either side of him, instantly holding his arms out to balance.

"I can do it," he told them. "It's not that hard. Actually, I think it's getting easier. Heck, I can dance if I want to."

"Are you sure?"

"You're not his _mom,_ Artie," Alfred chastised loudly.

Matthew put on a determined expression. He leaned forward slightly, then put his left foot forward. His form quivered, but he shifted his other foot inward to stabilize himself. He then carefully straightened his back. All could hear as he took a deep breath in.

Then, Matthew ran at the tree with all his might, screaming as he did so. His arms he kept close to his body as he charged. His torso arched forward, and his ankles bent up so he ran on the balls of his feet, but having found the shift in his balance, he quickly adjusted his weight for only two legs. His voice rose in his throat as he accelerated. The cry came out strained and humorous. Alfred could only assume to bellow was his intention.

Near the base of the tree, Matthew dug his heels into the earth. He kicked one foot back to steady himself, then gripped around the trunk. A broad smile made itself apparent. He looked up at his brother and at the others, giggling through his teeth.

Alfred, though still a little smug, whistled and applauded for his twin's success. The others followed suit, including Francis, who had woken from the loud cry.

"Fun's over, Al. Give me my cane, now."

"Do you really need it? You just ran."

"That's why I need my cane. For walking. I'm getting better every day. Just give it back, please? I'll be off it in no time."

"You sound like a little calf," Alfred laughed. "But okay." He took the cane from its disguised position and tossed it down, all the while thinking of how he could do this every morning until Matthew really didn't need it anymore.

They had a breakfast of what remained in Francis' bag, and then they were off again to the town which had been a miscalculated distance the previous day. There, Francis inquired after a man with wings, and it was true such a man had indeed been seen. Tannish-gold wings sparkling with dust and a hair clip made of gold signified their quarry.

With renewed confidence, the Mercs of the Messy Hand pursued more determinedly now. They did not stay in town that night, but rather continued on through the country following cues from Ivan's nose and scattered patches where fairy dust littered the ground. Fairy dust in gold… and green.

They would sleep as needed, but catching up became the mission within a mission. In mornings, the pace was quickened, and in evenings, they would eat, take a quick nap, then rise again before the sun did. Yes, it was hard to wake Francis, and Alfred managed to let his true age shine through whenever Arthur sternly told him to rise and help pack things up.

Wondering about Feli's ailment was set aside. Wanting to prevent any more snooping, Arthur made sure of changing the compilation back into an ancient journal and securing the key around his neck. He could hear Alfred's groan of frustration one night as he flipped through meaningless pages of long-closed accounts.

It was halfway into the fourth day of this rapid chase when Ivan told them to stop outside a larger town — something of a small city, really.

"I smell them. Very strong. They are here."

"You've got to be kidding me," Arthur muttered. "You find them in a _city?_ This is shite! Which one of you angered the Fates!?"

"Don't be so uncreative with your negativity, Arthur," Francis scoffed. "This city, if you haven't noticed, has no salt ring. And clearly you should be able to see the trees in the distance beyond the checked plains. It's a farming community."

"Oh, farming community. Like the ones Alfred told us about where hens are stolen."

"Nah, this is too big for that. Little more industrial. I was talkin' totally rural. You can switcheroo two kids at midnight, and there's no one for miles around to notice. That kinna community."

Francis stopped in his tracks. His tone was dead serious. "I am making a rule right now that no one is to leave Alfred unattended."

"What? I don't need a babysitter."

"Says the thirteen year-old surrounded by educated adults," Arthur commented, rolling his eyes.

Francis was adamant. "You will wear those silver-hewn scissors I bought you on your belt. No complaining. And you will stick to someone. Arthur, you will be his primary supervisor."

"Why me?"

"You're intelligent and responsible, and you have magic."

"I can fight, too," Yao boasted. He turned to Alfred. "I could defend you just like I defended Arthur back in that inn."

"Guys, I don't need defense. I'm smart."

"What if there's incense?" Arthur asked.

"Then I'll listen this time and get out before sunset."

"It's not really about protecting him," Francis murmured.

"'Scuse me, sir? Mind sayin' that a little louder?"

"It's not just about protecting you. It's about making sure you decide to leave before sunset."

Matthew stepped a bit closer to his brother.

"Not gonna take any kids. I promise. Iron in my heart and salt in my veins. Here. I'll prove it." Holding his breath, he took the silver-hewn scissors and stuck them into the leather sheath on his belt so the handles were visible. Then he tucked golden hair behind his ears, and with a glance at Matthew, the points stretched out and rounded into the ears of a human.

Francis gave an encouraging, yet annoying look to Arthur. It continued for about a minute before the fairy loosened up. "Fine," he said. "I'm intelligent and responsible, and I'll take care of him. I was with him in the capital, anyway."

"Yay! Artie is my favwite babysitta!"

"Shut it, shadowborn."

They were then suddenly approached by a familiar figure — Sir Clément. The younger knight saluted to Francis with a hardened expression.

"I suppose you've heard the news, Sir Francis."

"What news is this?"

"About the changeling sighted in Fleur de Vie. You must have been there when it happened."

"Yes, I was present, but I did not help in cornering the offender. There is no reason to be concerned. The creature was transported somewhere very far away where he will not be able to do any harm to amotoillais."

"That's what's being said, but precautions are taking place now. People are being asked to stay in their homes after dark in all areas surrounding the city. Rural especially. I was put in charge of making sure a proper salt ring is poured around this town by evening today. These people are scared, Sir Francis. I would be wary. And… I saw one. I saw a real one with my own eyes. That sighting I was told to investigate… I was almost attacked. The creature escaped before I could brand it."

There was a fraction of a second in which Francis looked stern at the boy, and Alfred's heart swelled.

" _Oui,"_ the older knight said absentmindedly. "My companions will be staying here. Ivan has pointed out that our quarry is in this location."

"Yes, I've seen them! The big-muscled one and the little fairy with golden wings and his brother."

"Whose brother!?" Alfred burst out.

"The fairy's brother. He has a brother who travels with them now. The fellow wears a cloak, but I can tell he has wings under it. Fascinating beings, winged fairies!"

"What about the wingless ones?" Arthur interrupted harshly.

"I — uh—"

"That's what I thought," he told Alfred with a wicked grin.

"I thought there was a Homoalces with you, too," Clément said.

"I've been changed," Matthew replied. "I used to be a Homoalces, but now I'm human. It was a potion. Arthur's a magician."

"We don't need to talk about that," the mentioned snapped.

Clément seemed to accept this unbelievable notion. He turned away and led them to the city's edge before watching them as they entered. Each man wore scissors somewhere on his person.

"Men, we're about to get 'em good," Alfred declared.

With reality at hand, the rest only hoped.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Short bridge chapter here, but the next few are going to be fun!  
And yes, America the country can lucid dream like a pro.**


	43. The Chocolate Cake Incident

Arthur was under a table.

Scratch that. He was under a table with Alfred — the human who neither "knocked out a poor sucker" nor made any attempt to disguise himself further — and it was a very small circular table covered by only a plain white tablecloth that thankfully stretched to the ground. He also mustn't forget that Ludwig, Feliciano, that other fairy, and probably the spirit were sitting outside the café right across the street.

"You ready, Arts?"

"Ready for what? Biting off more than we can chew again? Yes, let's get started." He gave a convincing smile over the sarcasm.

"We're gonna do a little thing called espionage. You remember way back when we first went to watch them while they were sleeping? This is just like that."

"Except they aren't asleep, and there's a tablecloth obscuring our vision."

Alfred shook his head like Arthur was stupid. "We don't need to see them. Come on, Arts. If you're blindfolded by the enemy, how do you plan to escape? You _listen_ to their plans."

"Listening? We're under a table across the street. We don't have Matthew because you left him behind in a random street with no one to guide him. If anything, we should have Yao go talk to them. But Yao is with Francis making sure no one starts yelling about Ivan and alerts them. We should've just let Ivan take some Invisibility Dust."

"Well, invisible or not, people will talk about a demon, so we gotta be quick about this. And keep your voice down. I can tell the sun's going to pass behind that thick cloud cover, so there won't be any shadows indicating we're here. It'll be super inconspicuous. All we have to do is listen in. Well, _I'm_ going to listen in. You remember what I say."

"You're going to listen in. A spell, I presume? Did you actually learn something from that book?"

"Spell? Sure, whatever. Call it what you want. Now close your eyes and plug your ears. I don't want you yelling at me and giving us away."

"Why would I yell at you? You're not going to do something stupid, right? Right? Tell me you aren't."

"Nope, I'm going to do the stupidest thing I can do. Go on, close your eyes and plug your ears."

"A spell… to enhance your hearing. You can… absolutely not. You are _not_ reverting to your true form under this ta—"

A loud _crack_ split the tension. Considering that the boy completely ignored his words, Arthur could only assume it was from somewhere in Alfred's body. This was confirmed when several smaller creaks and crunches emerged, followed by the unpleasant squishing of flesh. He looked at his ally with dread. The ears were stretching. The cheeks were hollowing. The skin was already as pale as the tablecloth.

"Alfred, _stop!"_ He squeaked. "Change back this instant!"

Alfred just focused his gaze on the tablecloth. His fingers grew and curled into gnarled, bony wraiths of their former selves.

" _Stop."_

"I _said_ don't watch or you'll get angry."

"I'm not angry. I just don't want you to get _caught._ Now, will you just—"

"I'm already done. Now, let's put these pointy things to work." Alfred shifted on his knees and flicked his ears. His expression grew focused. The Depth shone in the shadowed space eerily. "I can hear them," he whispered. "Remember anything if I tell you. My brain's gonna be sucking up details, but I need backup just in case I miss anything."

"Don't say anything at all. If a single person lifts up the tablecloth and sees you, you'll be _branded,_ just like that knight said. Or probably worse, with what he said about paranoia right now."

"I know about the branding. Mattie told me," Alfred replied through gritted teeth.

"Then why did you turn into a—"

Both were silenced when the silhouette of legs walked in front of the table.

"Change back," Arthur hissed.

"Will you shut up? I'm trying to hear what they're saying, and as of a minute ago, everything is amplified. Yes, I'm outta my mind, but I have to listen to my gut, and right now it's telling me to make sacrifices. You volunteered to have my back, right? Tell me you got my back."

"Your _gut_ is going to get you killed."

"Tell me you got my back, Arthur!"

"I — I have your back, but you're a daft—"

"Shhh!"

The next few minutes, Arthur felt as if his own hearing had been enhanced tenfold. His eyes snapped to silhouettes moving on the other side of the tablecloth, and because the sun did disappear as Alfred said it would, he listened to every little noise his ears could pick up. People walking through the streets, voices from the tables around them, late-staying birds chirping in the wind, and even the swelling drum of his own heartbeat caught his attention. He tried to breathe as quietly as possible.

Then there was the matter of the creature sitting close to him. _Too_ close. It was in moments like these when he really did admit to himself he was scared, and he'd been scared of this moment his entire life. It was almost as if Alfred's improv was a strong set of arms to lift him and pull him back from the crevasse of uncertain doom that was being _friends_.

 _But my fate is entirely uncertain at this point,_ he reasoned with himself. _I'm trusting him by being here under this table. I've already been trusting he won't steal my life, and now he trusts me to protect him_.

He settled himself on the fact that in front of his fear was a real worry for his ally's safety. It hadn't occurred to him how simple it would be to lift up the tablecloth himself and reveal the creature to everyone around. His heart wouldn't allow it. He looked to where he knew the burn scar was hidden by Alfred's hair. Arthur promised to have his back, and he _would._ This just brought everything full circle because now he simply worried about the sounds circling the table again.

"Still going to Allegria," Alfred murmured. "Something about… dude, that other fairy's got a broken wing. Shattered. He's probably the one Ivan hit. Feli's tryin' to calm him down. He's really upset… wants the amulet… Dammit! The other fairy's beguiled, too! He said he wants Luddy to have it! But wait... I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. Luddy says they're gonna leave this town tonight. It's too stressful trying to hide his curse."

"And I was looking forward to a _bath,"_ Arthur whimpered.

"Kuiper's Instant Bath. If you don't know it, it's an easy spell."

"Instant isn't relaxing."

"Luddy says there's a big lake not too far from here… he's been there a few times already… a good place to set up camp… geez, that poor guy. I don't know what I'd do if I only had half a wing."

"You don't have any wings."

"I know what it's like to have them."

"Get back on task."

"Feli's talking now. He says they should leave soon, before dark, but at the same time, he's scared. He's… scared of me. Why _me_ specifically?"

"You're the one who swapped with him and lied to his face. If he thinks of a changeling, it's going to be you."

His ears suddenly twitched, and he bared his teeth. "That's not true! I did not!"

"What."

"Same thing that Lucille lady said. Feli's repeating it right now. He thinks _I'm_ the one responsible for beguiling him. _Me!_ He's so brainwashed he can't even look in front of him to see who really did it. Feli has to blame the guy trying to _save_ him when Ludwig probably _watched_ the dark wizard wrench his mind outta whack and—" Another pair of legs walked in front of the table and stopped. Alfred curled into a ball and pulled his ears down. Arthur held his breath.

Sounds came from above. Plates being set down on the table. One, two, five, Arthur couldn't even count. When it finally stopped, the legs walked away again.

"We know their immediate plans. You should change back."

Alfred nodded. Cautiously, he brought himself into a sitting position again, then immediately started fleshing out. A healthy suffusion returned, and all sharpness retreated. He wiped his brow when he was finished and took some shaky breaths.

"Are you all right?"

He nodded, clutching his chest. "Yeah, just feeling a little… drained."

"Inhale, exhale. That's it. Breathe slowly."

"Oh, stars, I _need_ that."

"Need what?"

"You know those plates on top of the table? They're all slices of cake."

"This isn't the time for that."

"Yes, this is the time. Before my sense of smell weakened, I got a whiff of that cake, and now I can still smell it. It's _chocolate,_ Artie. It's chocolate, and it has little shavings of dark chocolate on top. And ganache. Have you ever tasted real ganache before?" He shuddered, and his stomach gurgled in excitement.

"You can't seriously be hungry right now. They're across the street."

"I can't shapeshift without fuel, midude, and I just altered myself pretty severely. Twice. Plus, I haven't eaten since breakfast. I need that cake. It smells so good. So _good."_

"You can have cake later when you can _pay_ for it. We sneaked under this thing. Let's figure out a way to sneak back out without anyone seeing. If Feliciano's really that scared of you, he'll recognize you in an instant. And I have certain… _attributes_ that make me easily-recognizable as well."

"Get me a slice."

"What? _No!_ I'm not stealing! That's as low as you!"

"Please may I have a slice of cake, milord? If I don't eat soon, I'll _die."_

"You mean if you don't eat _cake,_ you'll whinge for hours about how 'horrible' we treat you. Act the way you look. You ate all of my breakfast once and didn't give a damn when I complained."

"Arts, please forget about that. I'll make it up to you somehow. Same with the bite if you're still angry. I just want one slice. Please? One slice. Just one."

"How big is a slice? Half the cake?"

Alfred's stomach groaned at this notion. He clutched the offender, and his cheeks flushed bright pink. "One slice. One slice, and I'll shut up. Arthur, I'm _starving."_

 _Good gods, now he's a toddler._ "You're not starving. You just changed _from_ a starving creature into a healthy young man. You've waited before. You just happened to smell cake this time."

"Really, really yummy cake. Quality cake. Like, if you ate some, you'd agree with me." He started shifting toward the tablecloth. "It's not like I'd be in mortal danger anymore if I just took a slice of cake. I'm only human."

"You'll be in mortal danger when you start wolfing down every slice of cake on the table to quell the appetite of something obviously _not_ human."

"I can control myself."

"Likely story, shadowborn."

"Hmm, I could reach up and try to grab a plate. There aren't any on the edge."

"Get your head back under here."

"I'm just peeking! Hey, levitation spells are easy for you, right?"

"I can't levitate objects without looking at them first. And floating cake would be cause for alarm."

"Can you summon it through the table? Snap magic! Do snap magic!"

"Again, I can't summon it if I don't know what it looks like."

The blue eyes grew huge with disappointment. Alfred reached up to pull his glasses down.

"I just saw your entire true self. Do you think I'd budge if you showed me a fraction of your Depth?"

"Please, can't you magick it down here somehow? I'm so hungry."

"I'm not stealing for your—"

Without any warning, Alfred threw himself out from under the tablecloth on the side facing away from the street. He sat up and grabbed a plate off the top before slithering back under. His prize sat in his hands: a tall slice of moist chocolate cake with dark ganache frosting and separating two layers. Swirls of shaved chocolate stuck to the top and cascaded down the side. With no respect for its elegance, Alfred grabbed the whole slice in one hand and savagely attacked the back corner. He swallowed and licked ganache off his lips. Crumbs rained down his front.

"Aw, dude, this is _heaven._ You gotta try some."

"I love chocolate cake, but I'm _not_ going to eat stolen food."

"Says the guy who got arrested for larceny."

"I was sixteen. That was ages ago."

"You steal anything for your naughty spell?"

"No."

"But the spell did make you smarter."

Arthur glared at the man whose face was slowly resembling a pig's. "You're at the South Pole, Alfred. Far away and very cold."

"It wasn't mind-enhancement? Nuts!"

"You just spat on me."

Alfred didn't apologize. He took the remaining half of the slice and broke it in two, handing one part to Arthur. "Try this. It'll perk you right up."

The magician just sighed. He took the chocolate cake in his hand and popped it in his mouth. It was perfectly moist, perfectly sugary, perfectly balanced, and even still a bit warm. The crumbs and sticky ganache were total bliss on his palate.

"Oh, it's lovely."

"Told'ja."

When he looked again, Alfred's cake had vanished, and he was greedily licking ganache off his fingers like a privileged dog.

"You've got a little something on your face."

"Hm? Where?"

"All over it."

Alfred took the back of his hand and smeared the delicacy even more widely. He let out a long sigh of relief. "Sorry, I went a little crazy. I guess since I donafta hide so much around you, my survival instincts kinna pop outta nowhere. I feel better, now. Still hungry, but I think I can make it."

"If you would just cooperate and put food out of your mind for five minutes, we could find a way out of this situation. Then you can even consider evening tea."

"Not eatin' tea for supper dude, but I've missed plain cream lately. That would be good. Dessert will be getting to Feli. I say we attack them when they're least expecting us. Thinking I'll become the dog-man, too, and pin him down while somebody grabs Feli and gets him to a safe zone. If we have him with us, diagnosing his ailment will be a lot easier. We'll just get Ivan to use his icy death grip so he can't fly away again."

"The way I see it, _Ivan_ should be the one fighting Ludwig. His powers are better equipped for a battle situation, and he's handled the dog-man perfectly well already. I'm not sure you can adapt to Ludwig's massive shape quick enough to understand its strength and mechanics. That's why you almost died _that_ time."

Alfred shook his head, firm in his convictions. "But I wasn't prepared last time anyway. I wasn't planning on fighting him. He just grabbed me and threw me on my back, and I had no choice. This time, I'll be ready. I remember my mistakes, and I analyzed his weaknesses. You see, there's something with his curse that makes him more 'wild' as the night goes on—"

"Why do you try so hard? What is this mission to you? I'm being honest here. You barely know Feliciano. Why is it so important that you save him?"

Alfred looked back at him quizzically. "W'll, 'cause it's my destiny! Why else would I be born with a perfectly star-shaped birthmark? I've been marked by the stars, midude!"

"So you want glory. That's it."

"Glory? Well, yeah, everyone loves recognition, and it'd feel pretty great to be praised for doing the right thing. 'Specially in my case. I'm just finding my place in the world. I really think I was born to be a hero. It took a while, but I've moved past my, er, humble origins, and now I'm rising into my true potential as a defender of the defenseless, and—"

"So you're both the star-marked legend and the hero who rose from nothing," Arthur droned as he took a quick peek under the tablecloth. He grimaced when he made out Feliciano's tight boots still crossed casually across the street. The sound of approaching feet caught his attention, and he released the cloth. Both froze as the plates were shifted on the table. It sounded as though all of them were brought away. They must have been left there while the waiter ran some other errand.

"One's missing," Alfred whispered with a mischievous grin.

"What would come in handy right now is Matthew's Dust. Shame you left him behind."

"Share the blame with me. He walked slow as heck and kept stopping to look at stuff like a tourist. We both left him behind."

"Well, technically, Matthew is a tourist. He never volunteered for the mission. His path just happened to converge with ours. Strangely enough."

"We'll find him later. So we don't have the Dust. Can't we just sneak back out again?"

"It would be difficult. We could hide at the time because there were a lot of people crowding the street. Now there aren't so many, and there isn't as much noise. I can even hear Feliciano laughing now. And I can hear birds, too," he added with a glint in his eyes.

"Please don't make me be a sparrow."

"Just wanted to know if you were up for it. Of course, I'd have to carry your clothes around, and that's probably not the best idea in our current situation. By the way, if they're planning to go to this lake, we should go ahead of them. There's going to be a salt ring around this place by evening. I've got an idea. We don't have the Dust, but I can try to bend light around us the best I can to make us invisible. It will buy us time to get as far as we need. Sound good?"

"Do it," Alfred agreed.

Arthur held his hands out on either side of them, weaving a spell and charming the air itself. It seemed to congeal and bulge out on all sides into a distorted bubble. He then outstretched his fingers and pulled his hands together slowly. The bubble closed tighter around their forms, and a _pop_ was heard as half of it folded over each man like a second skin. The result was that with only a faint distortion from the refraction of light, the two of them were virtually invisible.

"Wicked," Alfred remarked.

Hunching down on all fours, Arthur lifted up the side of the tablecloth and looked out. When the coast was clear, he dipped his back as low as he could and crawled out from the darkness. He stood up and stretched before taking a good breath of fresh air and greeting the gray light.

"I'm here," Alfred whispered beside him. "Wait, we're invisible, right?"

"Yes, but not up close. We kind of… have outlines. It's the best and easiest spell I could think of under there. Come on, let's get back to 'base' as you call it."

"Can I run up and slug Ludwig in the arm?"

"No, you cannot. You can hit him later. Follow me."

"I can't see you."

"Just follow my voice, then. This way."

"Oof!"

"Your other this way."

They were able to maneuver through that particular street without much trouble. Not one of the other party was alarmed, and they managed not to knock into anyone besides each other when making their way back to the small inn Alfred called 'base,' which had really only been rented for the afternoon. Ivan was there sipping a tea Yao had prepared. Yao and Francis had gone out to try and make sure Alfred didn't do anything stupid, which was void at this point. There was no doubt they would be peeved when they returned to hear both he and Arthur had abandoned the feeble one.

Alfred spoke of Ludwig's plan to leave town in the evening, and it was acquiesced that the Mercs of the Messy Hand had to beat them there in order to avoid the salt. Ivan professed that he'd already seen men with heavy bags shuffling through the nearest street. Alfred gave a huff of frustration at this, but just as quickly brushed it off.

When it had been thirty minutes and no one returned, Alfred began getting antsy. "What's takin' them so long? It's not tourist time. We got business to attend to. Prior engagements with giant, evil monsters and innocent nobles. If they don't come back soon, Arts and I should go to the edge of town and get out."

Arthur nodded. "Actually, we should go now whether they're here or not. We're the ones the salt ring will affect. It's best we take our things and leave while we still can."

"Ivan, wait for them. Then take some Invisibility Dust and meet up with us beyond that eastern field. Also, tell Francy to go to that place with the lovely chocolate cakes and purchase two. Actually, make it three. I'll eat two by myself. Oh, and supper, too. I need a nice pile of meat or something. Beef preferred." He took his paltry belongings and waited for his more-heavily packed companion to do the same.

Alfred had his hand firmly on his silver-hewn scissors as he strode past the city's edge. Laying a nice, thick layer had taken quite a while, so the entire circumference had not yet been covered. Still, it was good they went when they did. The salt-pourers could be seen in the distance slowly inching closer. If incense was to be burned, it would be soon.

His hand jerked every time he felt around the closed blades. Next to him, Arthur was completely natural about it. It hurt to look, but he now noticed Arthur's scissors were intricately engraved with thorny roses and had sharp, pointy blades made for snipping thread.

"I know directions," Alfred said to get the image out of his mind. "Well, not _directions_ directions, but I got the gist of what Luddy was saying. This lake is definitely past that eastern field."

"Then if we get lost, it's your fault."

"I won't get us lost. Trust me. I'm your buddy. An' we're not going all the way until the others meet us."

* * *

 _Humans._ They were everywhere. And everywhere there was color and sound and sensation. Houses, banks, cafés, shops — he'd seen them all.

He felt so awkward and lost. He still couldn't walk and look natural, though he'd vastly improved from his first steps. Now, he only really relied on the cane for little balance issues. He could even straighten his back all the way and smile at passing ladies, who in turn, would smile back. He was getting a lot of smiles from young ladies, it seemed. It wasn't the size of paddles, then, which commanded attention. Perhaps it was his face that drew them in. He'd been told he had a very fetching face as a human.

Matthew scolded himself. He mustn't think that way. Modesty was a treasured virtue. Modesty and apology and kindness and empathy. And his humanity wouldn't last forever. He had the antidote hanging like a pendant around his neck to prove it. All this learning and experience would one day be long past, and he'd be trotting down by the lake again searching for tasty needles.

He shook his head, a giddy smile spreading on his face. Dinsmoor was his past and future, and he may as well focus on the present. The present was a bizarre creature. He had two "feet" and only one stomach to feed.

He shifted a bit to the left and had to stabilize himself again by leaning forward onto his cane. Matthew felt proud of himself. He hadn't needed to rely on anyone for balance all day, and the few times he did fall, he'd picked himself right back up with no trouble at all. The others? Well, it was so natural to him they didn't notice anymore. In fact, Alfred hadn't even noticed this last time he'd fallen, and he and Arthur walked right on without him while he clambered up. He'd then chatted with the girl who came rushing to his side, and by the time he convinced her he was not in need of aid, the two were completely out of sight.

"I should be able to find someone," he told himself. "It's not a very big town. Or is it a big town? How big do towns get here?" He remembered the capital city's enormous, sprawling streets and towering buildings and multitudes of people in their splendid dyes and fashions. (Well, those had been the guards, but he still thought their clothes were fascinating.) This was the world he was told of. He'd imagined it simpler. And there were more trees in his imagination, too.

There were still a great many words he had yet to know. In the past few weeks he'd learned what to call different articles of clothing and the different parts of a house and the various useful objects found in bedrooms and bathrooms and drawing rooms and proper indoor kitchens.

He'd learned what cattle were and became baffled upon learning cattle were also called _bulls_ and _cows_ and _calves_ even though they were livestock. He'd marveled at a horse, too, and for a moment forgot he had two legs and tried to run with four like the horse could.

It was a shame, Francis said, that Matthew had not had more time in the capital city. There he would've seen the very place where Francis was deployed from on trading missions and appreciate it more than his brother had. He also would've seen the grand performance hall for wind bands and orchestras. Matthew certainly knew the bass trombone, but not many other instruments, like the ones Alfred mentioned. Doot-doots and noot-noots and flooty-toot-toots.

"I also want to try ice cream," He mused. He stopped in front of a building crawling with people. A sour scent filled his nostrils. It was strong alcohol. Peering through the windows, he made out men laughing while drinking wine and ale. He blinked when a wine glass slipped out of someone's hand and shattered on the floor. Time to move on.

After another block, Matthew was getting nowhere. He didn't recognize this street at all. No one was milling about here. The buildings stood silent.

He must have taken a wrong turn. Which way had he come from? He turned and looked behind. There were several large trees along this street. Perhaps he could follow those to get back to the inn where Ivan was supposed to be. Or maybe he could find Alfred.

"I lost him," he sighed in frustration. "Why does he have to walk so fast?"

"J'ou say something?"

Matthew whipped around. His breath came out in a startled gasp. Standing right behind him was the source of the sudden voice. It was accented, though unlike most he had heard in Amotoile. The owner of the voice was huge with meaty, hairy arms that could've been a heavyweight wrestler's. A cigar sat between his teeth, and as he ground on it, Matthew shivered.

"Y-yeah," he laughed nervously, clasping a hand to his forehead. "I lost my brother. Could you maybe point me in his direction? He looks just like me."

The stranger said nothing. He only grabbed Matthew by the shoulder and stared into his eyes dangerously. The soft lilac was dominated by a commanding shade of chocolate-brown.

He took the cigar and twisted the burnt end onto Matthew's sleeve to leave a dark, chalky smear. "I knew it," he ground, sweat beading on his tanned forehead. "You're gonna turn into dust in the shadows, j'ou hear me, blondie?"

Matthew jolted. "What!?"

But before he could get anything else out, his head pounded, and his palms scraped against the stone pavement. In shock, he stared at a single leaf in his field of vision. Even this didn't help his focus because the stranger grabbed him again, this time in the back of the vest, and pulled him back up to land punches to his chest and shoulders. The strength in those brutish muscles was not just a speculation. When another chop to the skull landed, Matthew cried out in pain.

"Stop! Please! Someone help!"

"No one to help you here, blondie. J'ou're on your own. And you deserve it for letting me discover j'ou so easily. Depth in full view and limping like the freak you are."

"I'm not limping!"

"J'ou were born with deformed legs."

"I-I wasn't! They're perfect!"

"Disguised, maybe, but they're _weak._ J'ou walk so much worse than that guy in front of you, who also happened to be your reference, who you _didn't_ put to sleep. Dumb choice, blondie. J'ou're a half-assed copy, and you know it."

"W-what? That was my—"

"And because of _your_ little screw-up in Fleur de Vie, this entire town is getting salted today. How's that gonna go down for me and my buddies who have lived here for years with no problems? Now we can't go steal chickens if we're hungry."

"You steal chickens? Wait, you… and I… you think—"

He had to stop stuttering because the stranger chopped him on the head so hard he fell to his knees with no other incentive.

"Maple! I'm not the changeling!" Matthew whimpered. "I'm _human._ "

"You're trying to hide that Depth in your eyes, but I can see it perfectly."

With a surge of confidence, Matthew stood up and gave his most threatening stare. This would be so much easier if he were five hundred kilograms with a rack of bone on his head. He huffed in his throat, but no sound came out other than panicked breathing.

"Look, I'm _human,_ not fair. You can tell because I actually talked to that man earlier because he's my _twin brother._ So please stop calling me a changeling, or I will kindly report you to the authorities, which I should do anyway, seeing as you admitted you steal chickens."

"J'ou think you can sweet-talk _Carlos,_ you amateur shadowborn snitch?" He popped his knuckles, revving up for another round to the head.

"I'm _human!"_ Matthew pleaded. Oh, why did his _looks_ get him into trouble? He wasn't magical whether human or Homoalces. And the real mess-maker was Alfred, not him! But he couldn't say it was Alfred. Then this Carlos would go find his brother and put him in the same place.

 _The antidote!_ He fumbled with the chain just as Carlos wrapped his big, sweaty arm around Matthew's neck and pulled him down into a headlock. His grip slipped from the vial. He reached up again, but Carlos saw it first and seized it. A painful _snap_ vacated his neck of the chain.

"What's this?" He asked, not releasing his powerful grip. Matthew sucked in as much air as he could. He wished he had hooves so dearly now.

"It's a potion."

"That does what?"

"T-transforms me into a Homoalces."

Carlos scoffed. "You covered every base, didn't you? Still lying to me. This is your Depth protection that doesn't work. It's sparkly just like your eyes."

"I don't know what Depth even is! I'm _human!"_ He whined. "I'm human, I'm human, I'm human! Let me go!" He writhed in the other's grip. The thick muscle was stifling his windpipe. He hacked in another breath.

Suddenly, he was released and chopped on the head again at the same time. "Maybe I should just keep this," Carlos said, slipping the vial into his breast pocket.

"No, I need it!"

"It doesn't work for you."

"It will! I haven't drunk any of it yet!"

"Still trying to tell me it's a potion?"

Matthew clambered up again. His limbs shook, and his breathing was ragged. His skull pulsed from the violence. He held his arms out to balance. Then, without any assistance, he walked forward after his assailant.

"Give that back and apologize right now."

Carlos turned and flashed an unpleasant symbol. "Do you want another knock on the head? I'll call my buddies, and we'll find some iron bars."

Matthew then put aside any kind alternatives. Remembering his practice, he squared his shoulders, ducked down, and charged, yelling. It was just like back in Dinsmoor when he squared off with other bulls, and it was just like when Alfred had challenged him to run to the tree.

 _Wham!_ His head collided with Carlos' chest. He then reeled back his left arm and threw a punch into the same place. "Humans use their fists quite often, see? I'm a human, not a changeling. Give back my potion… please!" He got right up into the other's face, his chest brushing up. Locking eyes was important in a bullfight. It made it easier to see the opponent's next move.

"Ow! Wait a minute! Stop!" Carlos yelled to the furious human. Matthew drew back immediately.

Carlos reached into his pocket and pulled up the chain, amazed he hadn't felt the heat in his madness. He snapped his fingers up to suck on them, and the chain dropped back into his pocket. Though he tried to be furtive, Matthew could see the tiny burns.

"Some of the links in the chain are iron," he remarked. "And it doesn't burn you at all. J'ou really are a human. Just a human with really weird eyes. I'm sorry. I thought j'ou were the one who caused all this. J'ou looked just like that other guy, except you can't walk right. I thought you were a changeling born wrong. A lot of us — _them_ are."

Matthew huffed. "I'm not using my cane anymore. If that's how people see me, I'll walk the best I can from now on without it."

"No, really, let me go get it for you." Carlos said before retrieving the cane and offering it. Matthew looked disgusted at the glorified stick. This was not how he'd envisioned the world of humans either. "It might be better to have it," Carlos continued. "J'ou don't want to look like you're trying too hard to blend in."

"I'm not trying to blend in. That man I was following is my twin brother. I can't help looking just like him, right?"

"I've gotta make it up to you. You, uh, well, you know about me, now. I know you probably want to tell someone. Could I help you find your brother? Anything."

He looked sincere, Matthew noted. His hands hung limp and down by his sides as they should be. He had offered back the cane.

"Give me back my potion and help me find one of my friends. And buy me some ice cream. Then maybe I won't tell anyone, eh?"

It was the sweet deliciousness of ice cream that convinced him to let Carlos go clean, though Matthew did give the man a firm-yet-polite talking to on why it was never good to assume someone was a changeling without first testing him with iron. He gave another mini-lecture on why stealing chickens was not only wrong, but caused even more fear to swell around the countryside. He then finished, (and made his point,) by telling Carlos a very personal friend of his was a knight of Amotoile who branded changelings if they misbehaved. Carlos took this seriously and from then on treated Matthew with a sort of muted reverence.

Matthew, of course, felt bad for him after a while and made sure to tell him that Francis would not get involved and was having a change of heart lately anyway, though he left out details of Alfred, still fearing Carlos would get his revenge on the one who had caused the salt ring around town.

It was evening by the time the two of them ran into Francis himself, who was very worried about Matthew's whereabouts. From there, they continued on to the inn and the others.

"I got lost and almost mugged after they left me behind," Matthew explained after wishing Carlos farewell. "Carlos helped me find my way back to you. Is Alfred here at all?"

"Alfred and Arthur went ahead of us to set up camp for the night," Francis explained. "They somehow overheard Ludwig talking about his planned campsite. You poor thing. You're bruised."

"Yeah. It's a little uncomfortable. More walking, eh? Well, I've had practice with that."

"I noticed. You weren't using your cane out there. I'm proud of you, Matthieu."

"Oh, really? Thanks. I even got to try ice cream earlier. It's as delicious as Alfred told me."

"For some reason, Alfred wants three chocolate cakes. Obviously, _you_ can eat your dessert in moderation. Or do I stand corrected?"

"No, no, I only had a little bit. I could use some real food, though."

"Alfred did say he wants supper as well as two cakes for himself and one for Arthur," Yao noted.

"I'm not buying him two. I can buy one cake, and everyone can have a portion. Chocolate cake? That boy is getting specific about his tastes."

"He had crumbs on his lapel, and so did Arthur," Ivan added. "He stole and shared."

" _Mon dieux."_


	44. Between a Lake and a High Place

Past a few fields and quite a ways into the trees sat a medium-sized lake where the river pooled before continuing on southward. It was widely shielded by trees, and an ecosystem of its own flourished in the water and surrounding it. It was, in itself, a huge depression in the ground, for rising around it were rocky ridges and small cliffs, some around ten feet high and tree-lined. The sandy beach directly below this lip of rock was drier than right beside the water's edge. The sand was cool and tough, yet soft enough to sleep on when needed.

It was there where they built a fire.

"You can't let it get to your head, Feliciano. It's all the hysteria. We're out of town, now. You can calm down."

Despite comments like these, Ludwig still couldn't get Feliciano to stop worrying.

"But they poured the salt ring. They must have poured it for a reason. There must be a real threat. This was a bad idea. We should've stayed. We're outside the salt ring now. It's not just Alfred lurking out here. Though he's real. And the demon is real, too. The _demon,_ Doggie."

"Don't talk about the demon!" Lovino snarled. "Don't even say that word."

"The stress must feel overwhelming," Kiku noted to himself.

"You can shut up!"

"You can all shut up!" Ludwig roared above all of them. The others fell silent under his fierce, canine glare. He sat down again and huffed. "You finished your pasta. Now try to sleep. We haven't seen them for a long time, now, and I suspect they've gone for good if we keep going."

"We should keep going," Feliciano whined. "I want to keep going. I don't have to sleep. I'm scared."

"If you don't sleep, you'll complain. I have sensitive ears and an excellent sense of smell. If anyone approaches, I'll wake you. There's no need to worry at all."

"What if you can't hear? What if they're quiet?" Lovino jabbed.

"You've never had ears like mine. And besides, Kiku doesn't have to sleep. He's always keeping watch for us. If I can't hear anyone, he can tell me, and then I'll tell you. Now try to sleep. Please. We can't stay in that town if we want to get to Allegria where it's safe." He added an extra sharp glare to this.

Lovino sulked but obeyed. He wrapped himself up in a blanket cocoon and went silent, though he continually grunted out of fear disguised as spite.

Feliciano whimpered as he lay in his bedroll. His eyes couldn't stay shut for a minute, and his wings quivered under the covers. His breathing relaxed into a steady pattern, but he still jerked every so often as if someone were poking him.

Ludwig felt uneasy about this. It reminded him all too well of the time Alfred fooled him in Feliciano's shape. His own body yearned to rest after its strain, but perhaps if he could stay up just a bit longer, the fairies' fears could be assuaged, and the two of them could fall asleep.

"Feliciano," he started, "how do you make pasta?"

The fairy's head popped up, and amber-gold eyes were wide open. "I make it with eels and bats and chicken feet and fishtails and fish feet and—"

"You're the real Feliciano," Ludwig stated, "and I am the real Ludwig."

Ludwig thought all of this was over when another pitiful snivel rose. "Doggie, what about the eagle?"

"The eagle has left us alone for days," he assured. "You sang it to sleep, didn't you?"

"But what if it wakes up?"

"I knocked it out first. It's a stupid bird. It won't know directions, and it can't smell."

"But I think it was an enchanted bird. It had to be smart if it was after the wand. D-doggie, do you think someone else is after the wand? Besides the greedy mercenaries? O-or, do you think… oh no, that wasn't… _him,_ was it?"

Ludwig sighed. "Listen to the waves."

 _"Veh?"_

"Listen to the waves. Count how many you can hear. Sometimes, you won't know the outcome until it's upon you. You have to focus on the present. We're here together, and it's peaceful."

"One can see forever in an instant," Kiku added. "A proverb, I believe from the Isle of Rain. I agree that focusing on the present is calming to the senses."

"Exactly. Try and sleep."

He continued to protest for about another minute before tiring himself out and lying down on his side. _"Veh…_ my friends, myself, the waves. Peaceful," Feliciano said, slowly smiling. He hummed a few notes into the cold night, and for once, even Ludwig's nerves were calmed. The dog-man felt himself slipping into a well-needed rest, whether from Feli's magic or long-accumulated tiredness. He relaxed all his muscles and lay himself down.

The waves washed up on the shore near the where they camped. Breezes sighed wistfully in the lasting leaves. The stars lingered above and twinkled like thousands of frozen diamonds studding the black curtain of the night. Ludwig found himself trying to count the accursed celestial bodies as he drifted off. _Eins, zwei, drei, vier…_

Then, like static, a taut tension hummed in the air. Ludwig's ears twitched. He lifted his head and looked upward to the nearest rocky rim of the lake. It was too lucid to deny. He heard voices approaching. And those voices were headed by none other than a certain slippery liar saying something about _strategy._

Ludwig pushed himself up. His lip drew back to reveal his teeth, which reflected brightly in the moonlight. A low rumble reverberated in his throat. Next to him, Kiku gave a look of conviction.

"It seems they are here," Ludwig growled, his voice beastly.

Kiku nodded. "Yes, I agree."

* * *

"This sucks," Alfred growled as he ground through his sub-par _sandwich_ with barely any layers of filling. So he'd stolen a slice of cake. So? He'd stolen fruit before, and he wasn't deprived of fruit later. So why couldn't he have another slice for dessert after supper? Why was Arthur allowed half a slice when he shared the one Alfred stole? Why was this baguette with two slices of ham called a sandwich?

He boiled in a childish sulk where he sat, his shoulders hunched and his eyes angled at the ground. To put it simply, Alfred was not acting very heroic at the moment. It didn't help that his brother was sitting next to him and finishing his _second_ slice of cake. Matthew smiled and licked his lip where ganache had smeared.

"Don't be so surly," Yao rebuked. "Matthew was attacked today. Let him have two."

"Yeah, and I was almost—" His voice caught in throat. Arthur shot him a don't-you-dare sort of look. Of course he wasn't going to tell the others he'd gone full freakshow behind a thin tablecloth, but damn his impulses.

"That would be reasonable," Yao continued, "because you stole."

Francis decided this was a good time to butt in. "Again, I would gladly let you enjoy my country's delicious gâteau, and as much as I think Arthur can be a bit of a stick in the mud, he does have a point that you lack decency. This is barely a punishment."

Alfred glared at all of them. "Ageist," he mumbled.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Arthur scolded. "And it's not 'ageist' if you really are a child who needs discipline. Stealing. Honestly."

 _You friggin' shared!_ Alfred wanted to scream. But he knew Arthur really did condemn the act as much as the evidence pressed against it.

Luckily, Ivan came to his defense. "Why did you not stop him, Arthur? You had crumbs on your lapel, too."

 _Yeah, eat it,_ Alfred thought with a smirk. He watched as Arthur sat down, and the tension went out of those monstrosities he called eyebrows. It was a personal facepalm without said palm on said face.

Alfred finished his snack and stretched. It was now an hour after sunset, and they'd had a picnic on the easternmost edge of the field. Now there was only a small hike beyond, and the lake lay within. It turned out Francis' party had left around the same time the quarry had, and Invisibility Dust had to be taken in order to prevent Ludwig from catching a glimpse. Alfred had looked out on the dark wizard's brother hungrily when he passed. This was going to be a good fight. Ludwig was barely expecting it. His eyes were on the sky.

Alfred produced a slight frown to the ganache still visible on fingers and lips around him, but when turning his own bright blues to the deepening east, he was able to display a more confident countenance. His shadow washed over his allies, and he pulled his lips into a proud grin.

"Let's talk strategy," he suggested in wake of his discipline. "Now, I did a run-down with Arts earlier, and he's on board."

"I am not on board with your foolish idea."

"Yeah, but you're not our leader."

"I didn't vote for you."

"That still leaves two-thirds majority, so yes, I'm the leader. The cakeless has become the cornerstone. Anyways, I managed to add onto my plan a little bit, so I think you'll like it more. First off, Arthur goes in as a decoy. Francis is an expendable distraction. Yao, you're a good fighter, so I want you to stand by to assist with your ladle if needed. Ivan is backup. And I'm going to do what I do best, and that means I'm the hero!"

Dead silence.

"I'm gonna fight the dog-man, y'all."

"And who will be rescuing Feliciano during all of this?" Francis asked skeptically. "I'm a knight. You can't dismiss me as 'expendable.' That's not fashionable at all."

"Why am I a decoy?" Arthur protested.

"Duh, it's your 'hold-up-the-shield' routine. Defend yourself however you like. I come around from the back, show some fangs, get all bristly. Ooh, and Ivan, throw snowballs at him if you can. Draw his attention away from me. I wanna get a nick in his ear."

"Fine," Arthur sighed. "Fight Ludwig, but I'm not going to be a decoy. Francis and I can get Feliciano out of there like you said earlier. We'll need to mark out a 'safe zone' to bring him. Somewhere that won't be easy for Ludwig to find. Then I'll try my best to fully diagnose the spell. I also believe your plan involved Ivan holding Feliciano so he couldn't fly away."

"I do not want to do that," Ivan said, shaking his head. "I would not like his wings to freeze."

"Alfred would have to put him to sleep, then. Feliciano can't struggle, or I won't be able to read his energies accurately."

"We do have rope to tie him up with," Yao said.

"I suppose that could work. But we don't want to seem malicious."

Alfred chewed on his lip. "He'll appreciate it when he's free. And if you guys could watch that other fairy, that might be good. He said earlier he wants Doggie to have the amulet, but it sounded a little sarcastic. There might be a spell on him, too."

"One fairy at a time," Arthur snapped. "We have proof Feliciano is beguiled. Let's start with that."

Alfred's plan was edited. He would still be the one to give Ludwig an opponent while Arthur and Francis rushed in to take care of Feliciano. Arthur would bind the other fairy if he proved to be difficult. Ivan would work as Alfred's backup, (though Arthur used the word 'partner.')

Yao's job, when they realized the opportunity, was to steal the wand. His small size and quickness would work to his advantage if evading any attackers. It would make one less step for later, and with Ludwig distracted, there couldn't be a better opportunity. Perhaps they could even use the wand as a peace offering in case Feliciano still didn't trust them completely.

The roles were set, and they marched through the trees to meet their match.

"Um, Alfred," a small voice piped up. "I may not be much help, but is there anything you want me to do?"

Alfred looked to the side. There was the unnoticeable Matthew stumbling along and huffing near him. He was attempting to walk without his cane, and his gait was unsteady over the unlevel ground.

"Don't hurt yourself, bro," Alfred said. "You saying you want a job?"

"Well, yeah, I didn't really sign up to be a mercenary, but I can still help. I wish I was bigger. Then maybe I could help you fight. I'm a little scared you'll lose again." He said the last part very quietly as if it were taboo.

Alfred indeed took this as an offense. "I won't lose. I didn't want to fight him last time. I have an actual strategy this time, I'll have you know. Don't baby me."

"I'm not babying you."

"Yes, you're babying me. Everyone's babying me. You all think I'm just a stupid thirteen year-old _kid._ Why did I have to tell you guys my real age? Jus' 'cause I'm the youngest doesn't mean I'm incapable of mature thinking. I know what I'm doing."

"Yes, and that's why we're letting you do what you want to do. You're going to fight the dog-man, eh?" Matthew was clearly losing in this issue, though he fingered the chain on his neck with a worried expression.

Alfred tried to flash a modest grin. "He'll be howling when I'm finished."

"I just… you're going to distract him. It's Feli who matters. If we save Feli, you don't have to throw yourself into mortal danger. Just please don't die, okay? Or, at least, don't let what happened to you last time happen again. Promise me you'll do what you can and get the heck out."

This time, Alfred looked at his brother seriously. "I promise. You donafta worry, Mattie. It'll be great. How about you help Francy n' Artie find a place to keep Feli safe?"

"Okay. I think I can do that."

As the distance between Mercs and lake closed, the tension seemed to increase exponentially. Alfred made himself the leader in marching forward. He angled his eyes and steadied his breathing to be rhythmic with his steps. His hands clenched and unclenched. He cracked his neck in preparation. His tongue licked over new scars on the inside of his lip. Alfred could feel his heart in his chest beginning to race. With fear or adrenaline, he increased his speed.

"Alfred," Francis interrupted. Alfred stopped in his tracks, peeved.

"What?"

"You must remember to not rip those clothes."

"Not really interested in greeting the man naked, Francy. That wouldn't be decent. I'll try the best I can to slip them off, but if push comes to shove, these threads are as good as doomed."

Arthur scoffed at the knight. "It's easy to mend clothes if you know the right charms."

"Not if they are torn to oblivion!"

"They'll rip along the seams. That's what happened last time," Alfred snapped, though his voice cracked from exertion.

"Do not be nervous, little changeling."

"I'm not nervous. I got this. I got a plan. Just watch me."

"I can hear the water," Arthur commented.

"Yep. We're getting close. Now, everyone fan out on either side of me. It's part of the plan."

"Looking like a dumb magical girl squad?"

"Do it, Yao, or I'll eat your tea leaves."

"You wouldn't eat raw tea leaves."

"Milord, can you just let me have a point for once? Now really, everyone fan out 'n put your game face on. We gotta look intimidating. Trust me. It's a strategy."

They fanned out. Alfred placed himself on the edge of the cliff.

He looked down, and his eyes locked with the dog-man's.

* * *

The lakeside air was suddenly saturated with raucous laughter that echoed far into the distance. The man at the front of the cliff trembled with it, his hands on his hips and his blue eyes shining with energy in the starlight. His voice was grating against the former calm that had encompassed the area. He continued laughing for at least ten seconds before switching into what Ludwig supposed was Alfred's attempt at intimidation.

"Listen to me in my amazing hero voice, evildoer! Your time is up!"

"The _verdammt_ mercenaries," Ludwig snarled. "How did you find us?"

"You don't get to respond! Please stop talking!" Alfred commanded, pointing a finger down at the dog-man's vicious maw. "All right! Yao, I choose you!"

Ludwig had no time to react to this. A human he had never seen before jumped down from the cliff and swung a ladle around like a club. He dashed around Ludwig, slamming the makeshift weapon into his side as he passed. Pain pulsed beneath his fur, but he couldn't swing his claws at this "Yao" because now another person was standing down in front of him. It was the blond fellow. That damn changeling. And he was offering forward his hand.

"I didn't get a proper chance to introduce myself last time we met," he said, a dead serious expression on his face. "My name is Alfred, and I'm a changeling. I was hired to stop you from taking advantage of the innocent Feliciano. I will never quit until you and your dark wizard brother let him have his inheritance and get out of his mind forever. Shake my hand, and let's rumble."

"How the hell did you find us?" Ludwig ground.

"Fight me and find out."

"I've had a long day, and you cannot make me angry while I'm like this, or I will—"

"Well, guess who else has had a rough day? This guy. Now, shake my hand. I'm not letting you go. It's the perfect time and place to end this. We're going to rumble."

"You are a fool."

"We're going to rumble," Alfred repeated. He had grabbed hold of one of Ludwig's large fingers and shook it briefly before casting his glasses aside and messing up his hair. Sky blue eyes locked with icy ones again. Immediately, their difference in height shrank.

Oh yes, the dog-man would end this. He'd allowed Alfred to escape last time only because he was in terrible danger. But now? Now this kid had a monster to deal with, and he'd asked for a fight. Ludwig could even smell _fear_ on the boy. The dog-man snapped his jaws and bit down right onto Alfred's shoulder. Luckily, he only pierced the skin before Alfred jerked away, but he did tear the fabric of his dress shirt halfway down the sleeve, allowing newly-sprouted fur to come spilling out as his arms swelled in size.

"Looks like this _is_ an expendable ensemble," Alfred snidely put. His voice was already too deep to recognize. From then, his transformation only quickened. When his teeth had sharpened sufficiently, he made sure to rip away the seams that hadn't been split from his growth. His clawed feet burst from his boots, and he kicked his opponent in the stomach. It took the stretching of his face into a muzzle to give his fangs accuracy, and faster than eyes could see, he bit Ludwig in the arm so hard the moon received its song.

"How many times have I told you to stop chasing me?" Ludwig snarled.

"Not enough," Alfred growled back before going right for Ludwig's neck. He dodged and clawed at his copy's side. This was disturbing. Fighting himself. He'd never seen himself become vicious before. He was terrifying.

In his distraction, Alfred threw his weight upon him and slammed him into the sand.

"You can't win!" Ludwig roared.

"But I'm not me. I'm _you._ And that means I _can."_

The dog-man hesitated, then squealed. His right ear pinched.

Meanwhile, Lovino was in a scary situation himself.

"Felice! Wake up, you stupid brother! He's not attacking you! He's attacking Doggie! Wake up! Let's fly away! No, no, I can't fly. I can't fly!" With all his frantic efforts, Feliciano still remained stiff. His gaze was locked on the dogfight, and his lips only moved to produce words like changeling and here.

Lovino kept yelling even when his arms were suddenly jerked away from his brother and to his sides. He turned his head in horror to see two men running straight at him. The first one's hand was outstretched and glowing an eerie green. Lovino looked down to see the same light bathing his body — paralyzing him. He felt even his legs folding beneath him so he couldn't kick out. He whizzed his wings, but like before, the broken vestige could lend no assistance in lifting him away. The magical pressure squeezed tighter as the two approached.

"I've got him, Francis. Take Feli and run down the beach a ways. I'll catch up to you, and we can find a place suitable."

"No!" Lovino screeched. Fear and anger mixed in his chest and left him in a fit of sudden tears. "Leave him alone! You've already screwed with his mind too much!"

"I have done nothing to your brother," the magician replied. The point of an ear poked out from his white-wine hair. "It's for his own good that we take him so we can undo the spell someone put on him. Would you like to come along?"

"Never," Lovino ground. It was then when he noticed the demon king in the background. He was forming snowballs by blowing into his hands and then flinging them at the two dog-men. Lovino struggled even harder to move within the binding. Whether fight or flight, he couldn't stay motionless while the demon was around creating snow from nothing.

But while distracted by Ivan's presence, Lovino didn't see Sir Francis scoop Feliciano up in his arms and run down the beach away from the chaos. When he looked again, his heart lurched in his chest.

"Come back!" He shouted after the knight. "He's my brother! He hasn't done anything wrong!"

"Exactly, which is why he's coming with us," the magician said as he bent down beside Lovino. His green eyes were honest, yet Lovino spat at him right between those atrocious eyebrows. "Look," the magician continued, "reality allows little room for love toward your fellow man, but the reality is your brother has a strong spell on his mind that I believe I can help remove."

"Just bring him back." Lovino sobbed. "I hate you."

"Believe me, I've heard those words before. Now, either you trust us and come with, or you can stay here while we sort out your brother. You know, there's a chance you could be beguiled without knowing it as well."

"I'm not beguiled."

"Then suit yourself." The magician dipped his hands into the green aura binding him and pulled at the sparkling field. It grew even tighter until Lovino swore he couldn't breathe. "It'll loosen when I let go. I'm sorry, but if you're choosing to side with Ludwig, we can't have you finding us." He brought his hands out. They were no longer green, but Lovino's prison continued to glow. He was trapped, and the magician was walking away, ignoring his cries to return.

* * *

In an instant, it all changed.

It was not night, but day. It was not a lake, but a river behind. Not a small cliff, but a mountain. Not a laughing hero, but someone else coming closer and closer to him, golden eyes flashing in the sun and expression one of utmost seriousness.

His own voice cried out in despair. "You killed her!"

The other held up his hand and opened his mouth to respond.

Kiku drew his sword and finished him.

Then suddenly, it was nighttime again, but he still felt as he had in the vision. Air was sucked into his lungs. His body was weighty and pulsed with rushing blood. He could feel the breeze as it blew past. Kiku's world seemed to slow. He felt a familiar sensation. It was time caressing him and leading him along a shortening path in a finite direction.

He looked down at his hands in revelation. To him, they were always solid, but now they could feel the living realm. They had muscles and sinews and bones. All of him did. His clothes were white and glistening, and at his side was a _saya_ holding a blade. _His_ blade.

"I am alive again," he whispered. His voice sounded full with authority over this world.

His eyes snapped to the figure who sprinted past him. A man with long brown hair and a confident yet cheeky expression. He was the one who caused the vision. Kiku was sure of it. The same man had been present when Kiku plunged his sword into the demon's back.

"Who are you?" He asked him.

The man paid him no mind. He was now digging through the party's bags in search of something.

Kiku surged forward, but tripped and fell into the sand. He had forgotten running was a physical effort and not one of will. Undeterred, he pushed himself up again and came to where the man littered the beach with belongings. The mercenary's eyes glittered when he found the red box and opened it.

"Put that down," Kiku said. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword.

The man looked to him and tensed in surprise. "You are alive now? Since when?"

"Since now. Ignore it. I am alive, and I can defend the good Doggie-san against you and your mercenaries. But please. Who are you? I feel as if I should know you. You are very familiar. Did you send me a strange vision of my past?"

The man shot up, his expression a mixture of annoyance and apprehension. He raised his ladle in defense. "I have never seen you before," he retorted. "I do not know you. Get out of my way."

 _Shing._ Kiku drew his sword, and his legs shifted automatically to bring him into a fighting stance. A part of him that had been hidden returned with full force again. In his old life, he had known the art of the sword.

But shocked by these continuing memories, he did not see the man swing his ladle and hit him full on in the face. Kiku fell back and landed on his rear in the sand. He rubbed his stinging cheek. The sword slipped out of his hand. For a moment, he was blinded. His eyes watered from the pain. _Pain._ So this was the thing called pain. It was hot and pulsed with every heartbeat. His heart was beating faster now. He could feel it thudding in the center of this corporeal form. Could this be the thing called fear?

Kiku looked to the man now running down the beach. The wand box was in one hand, and he sprinted faster and faster away from the violence of the beach after an out-of-shape Arthur.

He looked in the other direction. Lovino was now sitting unable to move while a glistening blanket enveloped him. He cried out in hysteria after his brother. Feliciano was nowhere to be seen. The great amount of noise on the beach was caused by the two brawling monsters now thrashing against each other in the shallow water. From here, they looked evenly matched. Their fight was so vigorous that the demon stayed out of their way. He watched intrigued, though it may have been not even he could tell which was the monster and which his ally.

Then Kiku trembled. He felt weaker and weaker. His body felt as if it were liquefying. He looked down and watched as his clothes dissolved, leaving him in his indigo robe. The pain faded, and so did the fear. Kiku's only sensation was one of lasting tiredness, which soon left him entirely. He had forgotten feelings again. The living world had again rejected him.

However, with his spiritual strength replenished, he rushed over to where the battle of beasts raged on. "Doggie-san! You must stop the fight! Fairy-ciano is gone! They took him!"

At this point, the demon had already begun to shout similar things. "Please stop, little one! You are hurting! I do not want to accidentally freeze you, so come away from him! We have captured fairy!"

"We got him!?" One deep growl asked. It was cut off from any more, however, when it quickly turned into a whine. One of the dog-men had begun to come out of the water, but the other had his jaws firmly around the first's tail. The monster yanked back and snarled, showing where his teeth bit into the flesh beneath the fur.

 _"Ivan!"_ The victim cried out in Alfred's voice. _"It's_ him! _Freeze him now! It hurts!"_ In desperation, Alfred slipped and kicked back. His foot met Ludwig's collar bone. Ludwig didn't let go. His fangs only sank deeper. Alfred squeaked in his throat. His fur bristled, and his ears swiveled back.

The demon king rushed into action. His icy hands were around the offending muzzle in seconds. Ivan pried the jaws off the tail in one incredible heave. He then forced the jaws together again and blew on them, turning the wet fur into a white layer of frost around the muzzle. He increased the force of air, and Ludwig's fur started crystallizing where he stood. The beast shivered before dropping to the ground in realization of his already-present injuries. Ludwig could fight no longer.

Kiku bent down next to him. "Doggie-san. Please speak to me."

The icy jaws cracked slightly, but Ludwig could not say a word.

Lovino then howled. "I might as well be frozen spaghetti sauce!"

Ivan saw him. His brow knit in sadness. "I am sorry," he told him. "I did not see you in city. It was accident. I did not want to break your wing."

"Apology can't fix it, ice devil!" The fairy shrieked. "Go ahead! Freeze my entire body! Shatter the rest of them, I dare you!"

"You do not need to be punished," Ivan replied. "I am sorry."

The demon king ignored Lovino's subsequent cries. His focus was now on his companion. Alfred lay heaving and whimpering in the sand, though his injured tail had retreated back into his spine, so it no longer pained him.

"You are hurt."

Alfred ignored it. "I kicked his ass," he breathed. "I gave him a scar like mine. And a few more, too."

"He hurt you, too. You must come with me to new camp. If you become little again, I can carry you."

He panted harder, shaking his huge head. "Don't want to… tire myself out any more. And you don't have to… friggin' carry me. 'M not a kid." He pushed himself up, trembling, and stood hunched over next to Ivan. "I beat you," he spat at Ludwig. "I'm standing. Look at me. I'm a winner."

Kiku appeared in front of him, livid. "What have you done to him? He cannot move out of pain!"

Alfred casually placed his padded palm near the ranting spirit's forehead. "Sleep," he muttered. He then limped through Kiku and on down the beach. Though indeed very tired and hurting, his shape had already started shrinking. He clutched at his throat, humming until his voice was its usual fair tenor.

"Are you sure you would not like to be carried?"

"Is a horde of guards after me?" Alfred grumbled. Ivan said nothing. "I didn't think so."

So they stumbled down the beach, Alfred shifting from stoic to whiny to sleepy and back again. All the while he cautiously transformed bit by bit to what he had been before. He fretted at the sight of cuts appearing where fur receded, and he quickly snapped at Ivan to not tell the others of such childish reactions.

"Would you have liked me to handle him earlier?"

"No way. You were good backup. I handled him. I was a hero. I can tell Feli I fought the monster." Alfred said this with enthusiasm burning fumes. A few tears of discomfort welled up when his muzzle pressed in and molded back to a normal nose and lips.

"Why do you change shape when it hurts you?"

"Doesn't usually hurt. I'm just super worn out right now, and I'd rather be something I'm used to if I'm going to try and recover from this. Everything hurts. I promised my brother I wouldn't get so weak I was helpless, so this is a good thing. I'll be fine. Holy shit, that is a giant bite on my leg."

"Probably the reason why you are limping."

Alfred shivered. "Ughhh, it hurts more if I look. I shouldn't have changed. You know what? Toss me over your shoulder until we get close. Arts is really good at healing magic, and I'm feeling a little woozy. Don't gimme any frostbite while you're at it, okay?"

"I will try not to," Ivan smiled. "You still have dog ears."

"Meh. All the better to hear you with."


	45. Near a Tree By a River

It was the strangest thing, Yao said, that their man would again be so cooperative.

"It is the same thing that happened last time we kidnapped him. He got all stiff just like this. Wasn't it easy to carry him, Francis?"

 _"Oui,"_ the knight replied. "Very easy. He didn't even flap his wings. He was limp all the way here."

"It's bound to be a side-effect of the spell, or perhaps a clause of the spell itself. Whatever its purpose, it backfired on our dark wizard friend," Arthur asserted. "Besides the convenience, we should still bind him with the rope. Part his wings on either side of that tree and tie him to it around the middle. Don't forget his hands and feet."

While this was done, the magician took out both his journal, which he changed into the compilation, and his various legal literature. He spread the books about him and turned to pages in each to skim a few paragraphs with his finger. He quickly formed a glowing green orb that hovered over his head so he could see. During this time, he also sent Francis and Yao to retrieve the rest of their belongings, as this place would be their new camp, hopefully with Feliciano willing to stay. The magician had only just opened to some recent notes on a spell Alfred had played guinea pig for when Matthew cried out.

"He's waking up! He's moving!"

"Quiet!" Arthur whispered harshly. He shifted closer and indeed saw that while fully bound, Feliciano had begun to wiggle. Out of shock, he did not cry out, but instead looked straight at Arthur with utmost dread. He squeaked in his throat.

"Don't scream," the magician replied to the gaze.

This set their prisoner off. "Doggie! Where are you!? I was kidnapped by the mercenaries, and I don't know where I am, and I froze again! I _froze!"_ He flapped his wings, but the rope held him tight against the tree. The harder he struggled, the more terror-stricken he became.

"Hold it!" Arthur commanded. He shoved his finger into Feliciano's chest. "Why did you freeze?"

"I don't know!"

"You must know. Tell me why. I want to help you."

"You're a liar! I won't listen to you or tell you anything!"

"Oh, not this blasted nonsense again. You're under a spell!"

"Obviously I'm under a spell so I won't fly away! It's…" his voice grew faint. " _He_ did it. Oh no, he must be around here, and—" His voice squeaked after looking at Matthew. Feliciano slowed and stiffened again. His wings ceased beating.

"He thinks Alfred did it," Arthur reaffirmed.

"I wish the _real_ Alfred would hurry," Matthew ground. "He did have Ivan with him. I just hope he didn't do anything stupid."

Arthur gave a lick of a smile. "He's got nerve, but I believe he's also got some amount of brain. He'll know when to 'holler 'nuff' and come back here pretending he bloody killed Ludwig. I'll bet you a cuppa over it."

Matthew sighed. "He used to get into fights all the time, even with calves who were way bigger than him. I always tried pulling him away, right? But he was too strong. He'd get himself all beat up and then miraculously heal and then push some calf over and start fighting again.

"At first, it was just about food. But then he'd start fighting over even simpler things like who got to say 'goodnight' last. He'd fight with me and with our parents. I could never understand why, right? I thought maybe that was how things worked for the wild folk. Now I just think he was frustrated with us because we couldn't understand him. We tried to teach him manners, but you know how he is. Can't influence him one way or the other. It's all about him and what he wants. You'd think the whole world revolved around him."

"Psh, he'd _own_ the world if he could," Arthur snickered.

"Oh, I'm sure he'd love that. Don't tell him."

"Don't worry. I've taken it as my personal responsibility to make certain Alfred does not conspire for world domination."

"And if he does?"

"Hmm, well, they used to turn people into cats, but then they realized cats were still intelligent enough to assist witches. And he'd no doubt enjoy being anything with wings, so a crow is out of the question."

"Whatever you turn him into, you can't kill his pride."

"Very true. Well, he should be back soon, and if he isn't, we'll look for him. I'm getting dreadfully sleepy myself, so I might as well start with Feli while he isn't moving."

Arthur knelt close to the frozen fairy and placed a hand over Feliciano's heart. He reached out with his magic like an astral extension to search for another. He felt the fantastic energy immediately flowing beneath his palm, surging through Feliciano's blood and muscle. Though it was faint, and even fainter than usual considering Feliciano's magic was low-energy. Puzzled, the magician slowly slid his hand upward, switching to two fingers once he reached the fairy's neck. The pulsing grew stronger.

"Ah, there it is."

"The spell?"

Arthur smiled. "The _kentron._ I forgot he's a music caster. His magical center is in his throat instead of his chest. His voice itself is the source of his power. Well, his own pulse is healthy. I can't feel any resistance like someone's sapping it. No weakness, though it's a bit agitated because of his current situation. Now, let's find that spell."

He unbuttoned the shirt Feliciano wore a few buttons down and removed the laurel branch clip from his hair. "Hold this if you please. Metals can distort readings since they conduct all sorts of mystic energies."

"How will you know when you've found it?" Matthew asked as he took the clip in his hands.

"I know what Feliciano's magic feels like. I just need to look for magic that _isn't_ his. Like I said, no one's sapping him, so whatever this is, it's self-sustaining and should make itself pretty apparent when I find it."

He rubbed his hands together, then placed the one over the fairy's chest again. This time, after feeling Feliciano's magical pulse, he pushed deeper. Though he couldn't hear the frequency, he could make out the shape of it, all the while moving his hand around to sense beneath the skin. It began in Feli's throat, yes, and then flowed down to pool in his chest before moving to his back and limbs. If Arthur closed his eyes, he could almost _see_ it. It was a vibrant yellow — brightest at the throat like a dense, pulsing core.

 _Red._

Arthur froze. His hand was in position over Feliciano's chest again. It had been only a tendril, but he'd felt it. The lick of magic was significantly more energetic — _incredibly_ energetic.

He pressed in even further, blocking out all distraction except for what he felt flowing inside the fairy's chest. It wasn't long before he found the spark again, and it wasn't the only one. This foreign energy was pulsing in several places. It was certainly dark, and it certainly did not belong to Feliciano.

He exhaled and withdrew. "Felt it," he remarked. "Present in his body. He's right about it keeping him frozen. Now I have to look at his mind. I'm expecting to find a lot more of it there."

The magician took both hands and brushed them through Feliciano's hair before placing them on either side of his head to grip it above the ears. He felt for magic again. First Feliciano's, and then the spell.

 _Yellow, red, yellow, red, red, red, red…_

"It's a bloody manifest. What _is_ this?"

"Strong, eh?"

"It shouldn't be as strong as it is. In fact, it's a very thin layer of spellwork — poorly made, I'd say — but it's completely saturated his mind. This thing's been allowed to fester in here for quite some time. He's completely under its control. Poor bastard."

"Can you break it?"

"Not until I know what it is. I don't want to hurt him. Hmm…" Arthur tried to visualize what he felt more. Thin yet strong and everywhere. Wait, not everywhere. "Oi! I sense a weak place. A small tear in the enchantment. He's been _fighting_ it."

"But he can't realize he's under a spell?"

"Besides realizing its physical effects, I don't believe he'd suspect a thing, but he must feel _off._ That's what this is. A little rise in awareness. It's the uncertainty Alfred described. I think… yes, it's a definite tear, but it's been 'scarred over.' The spell fought back and forced him under again. I can tell it's won several times. Did this boy never learn any mental toughness?"

"It must be hard to fight something you don't believe exists."

"I suppose that's part of it. That and he's never been beguiled like this before. This energy doesn't make any sense to me. It's very powerful, yet its configuration isn't that of any curses I've studied. Thin like a trick charm. I'll need to get a sample."

"Can you do that?"

"I can try. If I can get some of this to run up my arm a bit, I might be able to decipher the twists used in creating it. The basic principle of spellwork is twisting raw energy to the desired shape."

"Can you twist some o' that 'n help a buddy out over here?"

They both looked. The tattered shreds of Alfred's expendable ensemble left little to the imagination, and his limp brought him close enough to the magician before he allowed himself to collapse. Ivan was right behind. Though the demon wore a plain expression, it was easy to see the dark stains on the shoulder of his coat.

They were all silent for at least a minute before Arthur remarked, "You're a bloody mess."

" _No,_ I'm _fine,"_ Alfred bit. The pointy dog ears poking through his hair swiveled back.

"What happened?" Matthew squeaked. "He's not trying to be funny. You're bleeding everywhere. You have to wash those. The river is close. Ivan, pick him up again and carry him. Those can't get infected. And… oh, that bite on your leg! It's huge!"

"No, it's definitely a paper cut. No! No! Don't pick me up! I can walk fine! I walked all the way here! I won the fight all by myself! Just friggin' _heal_ me! I don't need to wash them! It's too cold! I'm already freezing! I'm s'posed to be the invincible hero! I just can't lose! Flesh wounds! They're flesh wounds!"

So he protested, (and cried,) all the way to the river, where his brother helped him clean out the wounds. Then Matthew managed to stitch up some of the smaller cuts while Arthur quickly got to work healing the bite, which was the worst of any.

"If you kick me, I can't knit your flesh back together!"

"Quit poking me!"

"Stay still, will you?"

"I heal fast! Stop with the needle! Nrrgh! Can't you magick it without it feeling like a thousand-degree knife is melting my calf muscle? It didn't hurt like this last time you did it!"

Arthur reached out and pinched one of the furry ears firmly between his fingers. "Listen to me," he ground through his teeth. "You're overreacting. It's hot because I'm undoing what those fangs did, and it's a very deep wound. If you want to lie here in agony without my help, then go ahead. All I ask is that you stop with the attitude for _one_ night. A _hero_ would let a little pain slide so he can focus on saving the innocent."

"If I die, tell the world I was super rad."

"Might I remind you why you're in this situation? It's because you think violence is the only way to accomplish anything worth feeling proud of. You decided to fight a killing machine with an animal's mind."

"I beat him!"

"I don't care if you 'beat him' if you're going to let him tear a hole in your leg and whinge about it."

"You said you would have my back!"

"That's why I'm trying to _heal_ you, you dense little git!"

Matthew shook his head and eased the magician's hand off the ear before Alfred could react. "Arthur, I told you. It's impossible to reason with him, especially after a fight. Just keep healing his leg. Don't rile him up."

He did so reluctantly, though from then on, Alfred was a little more docile. Most of this was due to Matthew, who put his bone needle aside and held his brother's head in his lap, whispering words of comfort to ease his boiling temper. His face twisted in pain, and he broke into anxious twittering at points. Arthur felt a twinge of guilt for chastising him. He'd already scolded the boy enough that day, and if it weren't for Alfred's efforts, they may not have been able to capture Feliciano so easily.

To make up for it, he focused intently on making sure the tissue and skin knit properly, so no vestiges of violence were left in Alfred's leg. After this, he healed up many more little bites and scratches on his body. Luckily enough, he had no broken bones, but there were several bruises dotting his skin. The process of healing took some time, but after a while, Alfred had fallen asleep out of exhaustion. (Not before Matthew decided to let him have the last slice of cake, however.)

Arthur checked his vitals, both physical and magical, and when it was determined he was safe to continue sleeping, Matthew roused him to put on his still-not-ripped new pajamas, and with a little heat spell for comfort, the youngest Merc drifted off.

Unfortunately, watching the boy become so sleepy was enough to make Arthur himself tire out exponentially quicker. He could feel the drain from the healing spells. His eyelids were heavy. A soft blanket was so inviting. He could form a little flame and have it warm him.

"I cannot work on Feliciano anymore tonight," he yawned.

"You must," Francis insisted.

"It's got to be past midnight. I can't focus on him. My magic is too weak. We'll start up again in the morning."

"Dog-man will not find us," Ivan assured.

"He's not dead, is he?" Arthur asked.

"He is not dead, no, but he will not want to move much tomorrow."

"Dammit. I hope he'll be okay."

"He's our enemy," Yao said. "Why would you care?"

"Because he's human. He won't heal as fast, and certainly not as fast as Alfred just healed. I put a temporary binding on Feli's brother. It'll weaken overnight. I hope he knows some good healing magic."

"Alfred was winning fight."

"Was he really?"

"Do you want truth?"

"In all honesty, I'm not even awake enough to be intrigued by that subject. Tell me in the morning. Someone unbind Feliciano, will you? At least unbind his hands. He can stay tied to the tree. I think it's the sight of Alfred that makes him freeze."

* * *

Arthur had a rough night.

He didn't have any scary dreams, but there was certainly a strange one. He'd been some kind of insect trapped in honey, and as he looked up, he could see another insect forcing its way out of the honey and flying away. He tried to do the same, but the honey at the bottom of the jar was too crusty, and he hadn't the strength to break free.

"You are what you are," he remarked to begin his matutinal soliloquy.

Feliciano's eyelids were closed when he approached to deal with him again. The fairy must have nodded off in his fit of terror. Arthur pinched his cheek, and when he awoke, he pointed to where Alfred lay sleeping. Feliciano froze up.

"Exactly what I thought. He's a trigger, isn't he? How many layers does this spell have?"

The magician held his hands around the fairy's head and entered again. There was the red energy stretched around his subconscious like a quilt of cobwebs. Very carefully, Arthur let a tiny green spark enter and pluck at the enchantment. He flinched as a red string of static crawled up his finger and disappeared.

"That's right. Show me what you are, little bugger." In earnest, Arthur relaxed his hand and closed his magic around the spell, letting it grasp at the thin layer and gently pulling.

Suddenly, the red energy reacted. It pushed back with incredible force, sending all of Arthur's right out. Jolts of static burned his fingers. Feliciano squeaked.

"Sorry about that. I hope I didn't hurt you. Gods, I feel like I should know what this is. That thin layer, the defense mechanism. Defense… no, it's not caster-locked, is it?"

"Are you trying to kill him?"

Arthur looked to see Alfred sliding up beside him with his blanket over his shoulders. Dark blotches hung under his eyes, and he still had the dog-man's ears perched curiously on his head. He yawned and scratched at one.

"Alfred, do you think you can help me? Do you know how to read a person's energies?"

Alfred gave a surly grunt back.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was tired and frustrated after everything that happened yesterday. And really, if you hadn't given Ludwig a distraction, we wouldn't be here with Feliciano in our clutches. Does your leg feel better?"

He pulled the blanket down to look at his leg. His eyes instantly brightened. "It doesn't hurt at all. The bite is _gone._ Not even a scar. You really did heal it." He ran his hands along the skin, intrigued. Even a decent amount of hair had grown back.

"Of course I did, you ninny. Ever since dark magic was banned, a large portion of magical education is healing. I'm surprised they still call us magicians instead of healers."

"Thanks." He sounded sincere, yet there was still a bit of a suspicious edge to his tone. "What's wrong with him?"

"The spell has a firm grip on his mind. I tried pulling on it to analyze it, but it fought back. I can't tell what it is. I've never felt magic like this before, and none of the spells I tried on you feel quite like this one. Maybe you could figure it out. I'll admit you understand dark magic better than me."

"Flattery, flattery," Alfred yawned. "What do I have to do?"

"Hold your hand to his head. One on his forehead is fine. Now, do you feel your own magic?"

"Yeah, I can feel it. Still kinna weak. You think we can have breakfast?"

"Not right now. My magic is weak, too, from healing you. So you feel your own magical pulse. I want you to imagine you're pushing it forward into Feli. Connect your being with his."

"Like a fairy charm."

"Like that, except you aren't putting a spell on him. You're feeling the energy already present. Can you do that?"

Alfred furrowed his brow. "Yeah, I think so. When I use a fairy charm, I'm just combining will and magic. Shouldn't be too hard… I think I feel something."

"Yes? What does it feel like? Can you see colors in your mind's eye?"

"Colors?"

"More of an advanced skill. Just tell me what you're feeling."

"Something… dark."

"That's the spell."

"That's all I can feel. Dark magic. It's… weird."

"Try to expand your awareness. Go further."

Alfred bit his lip and gave a confused breath. "We did something like this in class once. Yep, I actually learned things in school. I think I remember. Can't see any 'colors', though. Wait, I think I got it. This feels… it's a fairy charm."

"That's what I thought, but I wasn't sure. You're positive that's what it is?"

"Yeah. It feels just like a fairy charm. Hmm… there's something really weird about this magic. I can't shake it. It's _familiar_ to me. I think I've felt it somewhere before."

"It's not yours."

"No, it's not mine. But… it's _like_ mine." He brought his hand away and looked straight at Arthur. "Did you say you'd never felt magic like this before?"

"It's like no shit I've ever seen, lad."

"Feel mine." Alfred offered forth his hand, fingers outstretched.

Arthur took his hand and interlaced their fingers. He reached out and was smacked with a deep blue tidal wave of supercharged magic.

"Don't force it."

"I'm not forcing it. That's just how it feels. It's even weak right now."

"Well, I _knew_ something was off when I checked your vitals last night. Good Titania. You feel this energy inside you all the time? No wonder your true form is so sickly. This magic is eating you alive."

"It also keeps me alive. Maybe that's why I got so sick when it was sapped in the city."

"It's so high-energy it's dyed your blood purple."

"Is that why? I always thought there musta been an aurora the night I was born. Mattie used to tell me auroras are more magical than moonlight. But now that I think about it, I'm not the only changeling who bleeds purple."

"However you were born, you survived _this_ being created along with you. This magic… you're right! It's very similar to the spell in Feli's mind! That same kind of natural pulse."

"Wait."

"Mm?"

"Does that mean Feli's being affected by changeling magic?" They both turned their heads to look at the fairy. Feliciano's eyes were locked on Alfred. "Y'know, he thinks I did it. I'm not saying he can feel that spell in his head, but there is something uncanny about it. Maybe he can sense something."

"I'm sure he's just blaming you because you're the one he fears, or perhaps Ludwig told him to blame you. Still… is it really changeling magic? Ludwig isn't a changeling."

"No, he's not. And we've been thinking the dark wizard put the spell on him. But wizards are humans, not changelings."

"Unless the dark wizard is a changeling disguised as a human."

Alfred clapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh my _stars._ Do you think? No, really? No, I can't believe this. I _know_ that spell is changeling magic. But… does that mean… the dark wizard is a changeling? Does Ludwig even know?"

"What's important right now is that we've cracked what kind of magic is causing him to act like this. And you say it's a fairy charm."

"A fairy charm made with changeling magic. Woo! That's right up my alley! I just need to know which one it is!"

"How many do you know?"

"A lot. See, where would the Mercs of the Messy Hand be without a changeling on their side?"

Arthur reached for his bag. "All right. We're writing those charms down right now. All of them. We'll destroy this thing for good. I'm just hoping my little suspicion from earlier isn't true."

"What's that?"

"When I tried to pull on it, it attacked me and forced me out of his mind. There's something called 'caster-lock' that prevents a spell from being removed by anyone except its caster."

"Mm, yeah, a lot of fairy charms are like that. Arright, gimme that inkpen. Ooh, this is nice. How much did this pen cost you?"

"More than a liter of your blood would sell for on the black magic market. Don't ask how I know. Now, here's a blank page. Write down every charm you know and what it does."

"On it." Alfred immediately started writing. His eyes blazed with excitement.

During this, Arthur looked at the spell again. Yes, this spell and Alfred's magic came from the same creature. So this was changeling magic. He could understand its energy level better now. But how was the spell configured, and for what specific purposes? What were the actual clauses that forced Feliciano to believe what wasn't true?

"Having a little trouble here, Artie. A _lot_ of these are caster-locked. If the one on his mind is, we might be outta luck."

"Please keep writing," Arthur sighed. He looked to see the extensive list growing longer with every penstroke. Wait, that was odd.

Arthur pinched a furry ear again. " _Why_ are you writing in _my hand?"_

"The rest of this book is."

"I thought we agreed we can't copy each other. That _includes_ our penmanship! Did you study this!? It looks as if it came from me!"

"Thanks."

"No, that wasn't a compliment! Did you _study_ this?"

"If reading it a lot counts as studying, then yeah. Look, I didn't change my hands to look like yours. I just learned to write like you do. It's a lot neater than my handwriting, and I can fit more words on the page."

"Unbelievable."

"Admit you're scared I could totally pull you off."

"Not today."

"I could pull you off perfectly. What, you got _soirées_ in your country?"

"Balls."

"Fine. Balls. I could be you and attend a ball. Refuse to dance. Make myself out to be the most disagree _able and obnoxiously arrogant person in the whole town. But really I'm a nice guyaaagh! Cease! Let go of my ear! Unhand me!"_

"Ask me in your own voice."

"Step off, homie!"

"Why do you still have these ears?"

"All right. If it'll make you stop pinching me, I'll change them. Let's go fairy for now." The dog ears melted down into pointy fairy ones, the left with its nick.

Alfred started writing in his own hand, which in comparison to Arthur's was indeed crude and quite reminiscent of a middle schooler's wild scrawl. He scanned the list with his finger to review all he had written, for incidentally, he had forgotten most of it in anticipation for what Arthur would do once he learned of the mimicking.

"Hey. I think this is it. Hypnosis."

"Hypnosis? That's straight-up trick magic right there. It would never hold more than a few hours. Feli's been affected for weeks."

"This is a changeling's hypnosis I'm talking about. It _will_ hold indefinitely. We have other ways of making people believe what we want besides lying. Wow, it's been right under our noses. I _know_ this spell. Yeah, only the person who did it can undo it."

"So that means we can't." Arthur looked dejected.

"No, we can't. But if we find who did it, we can make him take it back."

"How are we supposed to do that? If we take Feliciano back to Ludwig, he'll make sure we never come near him again. He'll have to be the one chasing _us_ from now on."

Alfred looked pensive. He held a knuckle up to force more lip between his teeth while he chewed. A few considering breaths escaped, and he looked at Feliciano's present state of distress with a pondering expression.

He snapped his fingers. "How do we get to Volkerburg?"

"Volkerburg? Why would we go there?"

"I know someone who lives there. It's the changeling who taught me that charm. He knows everything there is to know about fairy charms and more. I reckon if we can take Feli to him, he'll offer us protection and maybe have an idea of who did this to him. After all, the magic scene in Volkerburg isn't too large, and I think he'd know if one of the few wizards who live there is a changeling. Especially if he's a dark wizard. We wouldn't have to deal with Ludwig at all. Just go straight to that dark wizard man-behind-the-curtain."

"The magic scene in Volkerburg isn't large because they kill every changeling who laughs."

"Then I won't laugh."

"It was a figure of speech. I'm saying you would combust there and have your ashes buried in a clearing where no shadow would ever touch. Are you sure your friend even lives there? And how do you know he hasn't been killed?"

"Dude's a genius. I _know_ he's still alive. And he said he lives in a tall tower in the Western Wood surrounded by birds, and he speaks with a Folkerburgese accent. Trust me. This guy will know how to read the spell and tell us who dunnit."

"You're mad."

"I'm not. We oughtta take Feliciano to my old mentor. He taught me a whole lot when I was younger. I trust him. He'll be on our side if we let him know what's going on, and I'm sure he'd love to see me again."

"And what's this fellow's name?"

"Gilbert."


	46. Play the Fool

A blast of green light shot past Gilbert's hood. He laughed at his attacker. Only his sharp grin could be seen beneath the shadow.

"Not so good at aiming, are you? Maybe you should give up. Magic chooses who wields it, and I guess you're just not the right material."

"Shut up! If I wasn't supposed to use magic, I wouldn't be able to use it at all! Leave this town now, and never curse anyone in it again!"

"The dark wizard Gilbert does as he pleases. Shouldn't you know that by now?" He raised his flute to his lips.

Another blast clipped his robe on the shoulder. Gilbert dropped his flute. He cursed and bent down to retrieve it. When he stood up again, the young witch was standing right behind him. He turned and let the hood fall even farther down over his face.

"These people hate you, you know. You and your curses. How old are you, anyway? Your hands look like a skeleton's. Do you hide your face because all your wicked magic has turned you _ugly?"_

"Looks don't matter!" Gilbert hissed, slipping one hand into his pocket. "What matters is power. I don't need to show my face for all of you _mundanes_ to know of my awesomely incredible power. You think you can stop me with your little wand tricks?" He chuckled. "You know, one day I will rule Volkerburg with my magic, and then maybe I'll take over your precious little Petraország as well."

"Never," she shot back. "You're just a bully. You'll fall someday, Gilbert. The chances of you taking over any country are as little as a changeling doing so."

Gilbert's lips split into a toothy grin. "We shall see about that. Now, I have some work to do in another town, so I'm leaving now. _Tschüss,_ witchy girl!" He turned and walked onward toward the trees.

"My name is Elizaveta!"

"Well, if we meet again, I'll remember that. Not that you'll remember mine after I play you a flute sonata."

He could hear the sound of her frustration as she attempted to shoot another beam from her wand. Gilbert shook his head in humored pity. _Humans._

He began laughing again as the girl gave up and decided to chase him. Gilbert ran on ahead. He expertly weaved through a special path of brambles and mud he'd memorized, losing her in the process. Gilbert took his flute case out of a hollowed tree and packed his instrument away. Then, stowing his cloak in the same place, he transformed into an eagle and stretched his wings skyward.

* * *

Surely, not even Roderich Edelstein could bear to be in the shape of Roderich Edelstein.

Gilbert kept staring at his hands as he pondered beneath a tree. This was not the first break he'd taken today. His legs kept giving out when trying to grip the horse, and the cold was constantly irritating his sinuses.

"This is a joke, right? How could anyone live like this? These baby-soft cheeks. No physical endurance. I can't believe I'm saying this, but this body is weaker than mine! Why does he complain about my curse when his legs naturally do nothing? And this _voice._ It's _awful._ Even when he was a kid, it was awful." He hacked again, but his voice wouldn't shift its timbre.

" _I can't listen to it coming from my own lips anymore,"_ he whined in his own. " _I hate being human. I feel so tired. Especially because I have to be Duke Loser who never does anything awesome and fun. I may be skin and bones, but at least my body isn't made out of Sachertorte."_

He closed his eyes in hopes of abating the misery, but even without seeing himself, he could still feel his breathing and idle limbs spread about him. The fuller, softer hair brushed past his ears and down his neck. A bubble of acid swelled in his shoulder. He rolled it back, and it snapped loudly, adding to his discomfort.

The black mare stood by indulging in the last green grass of the season. He'd never learned her name, but she seemed trusting of her master, even if he talked to himself and opted for walking at a much brisker pace than usual.

Gilbert, without his powers of emulation, was not the best rider. He'd observed the practice many times in his youth, especially around the grounds of Edelweiss where he used to snoop. None of those people had been Edelstein. In fact, the first time Gilbert had seen Edelstein riding was after he'd been named duke twelve years ago, and he was already in his twenties. Perhaps it had been due to the curse on his legs, but the wicked Gilbert still counted this as incompetence.

And then there was that delicious memory of the night he'd attacked in eagle form and made Edelstein fall off his horse. He'd taken the duke's shape and clothes and abandoned him in a ditch with only his jacket to cover his vital regions. Gilbert had never learned exactly where Edelstein had been riding from, but when he returned to Gutshaus Edelweiss, his "wife" Elizaveta was stern with him for going to that _place_ and insisted that he take a bath so he wouldn't catch cold from the rain.

" _That was awesome,"_ he admitted. The big tub that could be filled with hot water from _pipes_ was one of the few things he'd praise in a human's home. Sure, he'd bathed in the shape of Edelstein, (and indeed had his eyes closed throughout the bath to prevent him from seeing his body in too much detail,) but the water flowing over his skin had been so soothing, and the soap made him smell like honey. It was disturbing to think he'd been living with heating plain bathwater on the stove for so long when such magic was at the hands of his enemy. But then again, if he were to have a fancy tub installed, the fortress would be turned inside out, and sooner or later, his secrets would be, too.

The night had ended almost perfectly. He'd almost touched lips with Edelstein's wife, (even though she'd already kissed him after he walked in the door soaking,) and the real duke had entered to see him holding her lovingly. Gilbert still remembered getting the burning welt from Elizaveta's frying pan that night, but as a personal triumph, he never told her his true identity, and Roderich, who knew, was unable to do so, seeing as he attempted it and broke two fingers.

" _That poor, poor little girl. Wrecking his hand when he's already got a bump on his head and is all scratched up from my talons. Now that I think about it, I got him better than I thought. It's like the talon marks on his face multiplied by the time he got home. When I return to Piyo Fortress, I shall fish out the diary entry from that day. I forgot she kissed me when I got in the door. Roderich never stopped me at all."_

The mare peered at him with a hint of suspicion.

"Don't look at me like that. This cold is scrambling my mind. I'm infirm out here. Infirm and incompetent and a total loser. The Duke of Edelweiss is a loser. The dark wizard Gilbert could crush him."

He laughed his rasping laugh and had fun with this for a few more minutes before its intrigue was lost and he wallowed in misery again. Four days he'd been in this shape. Or had it been five? Even one day as Edelstein was torture.

He suddenly noted the sound of wing-beats. A dot of yellow pierced the gray sky of afternoon. Gilbert's lips upturned. He reached out his hand, and the yellow bird flew down and perched on his finger with a note in its beak.

"You always know it's me, don't you? Even if I'm a hideous aristocrat." He held the bird close and nuzzled it with his cheek. It dropped the note to chirp a song of greeting and affection to its master.

"Now, what did you bring me?" Gilbert picked up the note. He slid off the twine and unfolded it. The cursive was instantly recognizable. Gilbert was not surprised. He'd been expecting this letter. A reply to the insufficient note he'd written out of rage:

 _Dear brother,_

 _I received your letter, and I do believe it is yours, seeing as it was in your handwriting. However, as you are probably expecting, I do not understand what you mean by it. You have never told me anything about a duke, and I do not understand what you mean by killing one. I have come to believe you are hiding things from me. If so, you must tell me when we meet each other again. Tell me everything. I do not want secrets between us, brother._

 _I am well, and so is Feliciano. I should mention we are now traveling with his brother, Lovino, whom through whatever causes supports me in my endeavor to find and use the amulet to my whim. We have left the city and are on our way to Allegria, where Feliciano now believes the amulet is hidden._

 _As for the mercenaries, I believe we have lost them, though Feliciano persists in fearing they are still pursuing us, and I cannot be entirely sure they are not, seeing as they oppose me with such conviction. A wing of Lovino's was shattered by the snow demon working with them._

 _I am not entirely sure, but there may now be another form of opposition. Recently, I was attacked by a black eagle. It is not our friend's eagle because it was much larger and had golden eyes. I know it was not the mercenaries' changeling because of its lack of personality. This eagle tried to steal the wand from us. It had attacked your messenger bird and broken its wing before Lovino healed it. We managed to trap it and knock it out, but we are not sure whether it is an enchanted eagle that intends to follow us and spoil our quest._

 _Take care of yourself, brother, and please reply to this letter with a comprehensible one._

 _Ludwig_

 _And Feliciano! You're awesome, Gilbert!_

"'Our friend's eagle.' Cute how he wrote it like that," Gilbert remarked to the letter. It was when he read the final paragraph when he became concerned. He peered at the bird. "You were attacked, little birdie? Why would something want to break your wing? I'm so sorry."

The bird fluttered its wings confidently to show both were now full and firm.

"I understand that the fairy could heal you, but that doesn't get rid of the fact something tried to kill _my_ bird. My _favorite_ bird."

The bird's chest grew even prouder.

Gilbert screwed up his face. "Oh, Lud, I wish I could be there with you now. A black eagle, you say? Lud, you can't dismiss that it might be a changeling. I can choose to hide my identity even if I'm an animal. If it's intelligent enough to try stealing a specific object, then it may not be an eagle at all. It could be that changeling with the mercenaries.

"Then again, Roderich never told me about his spy. That's cruel. Using a black eagle to spy on my brother and trying to steal the wand. Lud probably thought it was me. I would go back and threaten Rod again, but that would just mean more time in this awful shape.

"I need to get to Amotoile," he told the bird, standing. "I need to get rid of the mercenaries and tell Lud everything. He needs to know I'm not the loving brother he thinks I am. No, I'm not evil to the innocent, but to my enemies, I'm the darkest wizard who ever lived. Darker than Fritz. I feel no regret for what I've done to Roderich. When I get my hands on that amulet, Basch will feel my wrath. I'll tear his castle apart brick from brick. I'll transform him like he transformed my brother."

The bird flew up and perched in the brunet hair. His serious expression broke into a grin as it took the long, stick-up strand in its beak and tugged at it.

"You don't like this shape either, do you? It's only temporary, but I've hated it since I took it. _How's this for a voice? Better?"_

The bird chirped in agreement.

" _Awesome. I'll only use Piano-boy's when I have to. You know, my favorite bird should have a name. How about Gilbird? That one's funny. Now, come on, horse."_

The reluctant mare allowed him to mount again, and tucking Ludwig's letter in his breast pocket, he rode on north toward Piyo Fortress.

It was getting later in the day when he realized he was getting very hungry, and being that he found himself closer and closer to civilization, he pondered over stopping in the nearest town for a quick bite and mug of beer.

One of the useful things he'd brought with was a hooded cloak. He was surprised Edelstein even possessed such a thing. However, he realized upon putting it on that it smelled like Elizaveta. Gilbert stopped to control himself when he felt his teeth sharpen in his mouth. He could laugh later.

He whipped it around himself and threw up the hood. It was just like his act. He'd walk through town with his face obscured and his hands in his pockets.

Except when he did do this, it was different. Firstly, he had no need to hide his face or hands. Secondly, nobody paid much attention to him. And most irritatingly, he didn't feel at all like the dark wizard who struck fear into the hearts of Volkerburg's helpless humans.

" _If I had my flute, maybe I could weave a hex or two,"_ he thought aloud. To hell with that other weakness of being a music-caster. He could shapeshift and speak charms easily, but powerful spells required his voice, and seeing that his voice wasn't the most melodious, he aided it with his flute.

He found himself stewing in disappointment at a tavern whose food and beer he decided was subpar. If he'd had his flute, the barkeep would be charmed into thinking he was a chicken. But Gilbert didn't have his instrument… and he was Edelstein.

Gilbert took a large gulp of what remained in the mug and winced at the taste. Now was the perfect time to move _the most delicious beer ever brewed_ to the top of his wishlist. Even so, Gilbert could feel his world slowing, and he realized the weakness of this body's tolerance. Gilbird chirped painfully loud. Then it burrowed down into his shirt and tickled him with its feathers.

"Get out, will you? My head hurts, and this is no place for silliness," He snapped at it, forgetting in frustration to switch to his own voice.

Unfortunately, his remark caught some unwanted attention. Before he could react, the hood was yanked off his brunet hair, and he heard an all-too-familiar feminine growl.

"I thought I recognized that cloak."

It took all of his effort to neither smirk nor scowl. Instead, Gilbert turned to face none other than his muse's ex-wife, Elizaveta Héderváry. Chestnut hair flowed loosely down her back, and poised in her hand was a long wooden wand, which he realized was one swift movement from being pointed at his nose.

"I didn't know you would be here," he started, unsure of what else to say.

"The same," she replied. The witch took her seat next to him and gave him a face full of irked concern. "Are you okay? You do know Gutshaus Edelweiss was robbed. I thought you were kidnapped."

 _That closet door must be dense to hide his snoring._ "Edelweiss was robbed? This is the first I've heard of it. I left to pay some dues to a group of mercenaries I hired. How severe was the damage?"

"You were gone when it happened?"

"Of course. If the guards didn't notice, it's because I left in secret. This issue I'm having is more of a private affair."

Elizaveta looked cross. "Everyone thinks you were kidnapped by the dark wizard Gilbert. There was a note left in the kitchen. It was anonymous, but I know his handwriting when I see it. Now, he's always been troublesome, but he's never simply robbed people or kidnapped anyone before. He's a wicked wizard, not a common criminal. But he decided to target your manor and steal your nice shirts. I'm so relieved he didn't do anything to you."

 _Of course I did. I am awesome after all. Too bad you don't know I'm also the changeling in his nightmares._

Now was the time to get dramatic. Gilbert twisted his face in his best impression of fear. "More guards. Scour Volkerburg. Bring in reinforcements from Amotoile — the knights. I do not want to quarrel with magic-users."

"He doesn't even let people quarrel with him. If he feels like it, he enchants them with his magic flute. I tried many times to stop him from cursing villages in the past, but he always escaped before I could get my hands on him. It's like he ran off into the woods and disappeared. No doubt he has secret portals everywhere."

 _You have no clue, do you? I can fly, witchy woman. Just like you on your broomstick._

"Secret portals? Oh, my! Why must he target me?"

"Because he's an ass, and he thinks it's funny to make as many people afraid of him as he can. These days, he sticks to Volkerburg, but when I was younger, I caught him back home in Petraország, too."

 _And once I have that amulet, all will fall under my spell and worship me like they should… or become a cute bird army. I haven't really decided yet._

"What are you smirking at?" She asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"Sorry, I'm so tired today. I shouldn't ride for so long. I'm infirm in this cold."

"Then why didn't you ask me to come along with you?"

"It's secret. Really. You wouldn't understand."

"It's always a secret with you, Roderich. Just because we aren't married anymore doesn't mean I can't help you when you need it. Besides, you haven't hired mercenaries in a long time. This sounds serious."

"Too serious." _Oh, my lovely Lizzy! The dark wizard you speak of is the changeling who cursed me! But I've never been able to tell you because of my pretty hand!_

"Stop smirking. You're acting strangely. How much beer have you drunk tonight?"

"Only this mug."

"That's huge! This is why you need me around. Tell me what's stressing you. Why have you hired mercenaries? We can talk outside if that's what you want."

"That would be better. I could use some fresh air. Perhaps it was a little too much." He massaged his forehead. The alcohol was seeping into him. Gilbert was losing his composure. His face was starting to contort in all the Gilbertish ways. Elizaveta had never seen the dark wizard's face, but she knew Roderich, and Roderich wouldn't smirk at serious matters.

They exited the tavern together and strolled along in the starlight down the streets of this town. Gilbert sniffed. No _Enthüllung_ here yet, but he'd have to be careful. He couldn't afford to lose this shape or make himself even weaker. What he had to lose was the witch.

Unfortunately, they had stopped, and the witch was now looking straight at him with piercing green eyes. The bird digging its claws into the fragile scars of his stomach did not help him feel any more confident.

"Tell me," she said.

"Tell you what?"

"What did you hire the mercenaries for?"

"It would hurt me to speak of it."

Her jaw dropped. "Your hand?"

He nodded before cautiously choosing his words.

"The you-know-what — _it_ is trying to find a _sogno_ amulet that can grant wishes. I found out through a spy, and I was terrified. But it would know if I sent my guards after it. So I hired an elite group of mercenaries and sent them after…" His hand shuddered. "But… it found out anyway, and it got extremely angry with me. Now I am trying to find the mercenaries to pay them and tell them their mission is over. That was its demand in return for not laying another curse on me."

"It spoke to you?"

"It visited me. It…" He winced and clutched at his wrist in a great facade of pain. He shifted a knuckle bone so a loud _pop_ emphasized his distress. "The curse won't let me say anything else. I'm sorry."

Elizaveta's face softened instantly. Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him close. Shocked, he brought his hands up slowly and returned the gesture, wrapping his own around her firmness. Her hair was soft and smooth between his fingers. A pink peony decorated the place above her right ear.

"Awesome," he murmured. The moment ended mere seconds later with the woman pulling away and gazing at him with utmost pity.

"You had me so worried, Roddy. I thought he kidnapped you. But Gilbert is just a common nuisance. Not like that you-know-what."

 _What? You mean Gilbert? His name is Gilbert, too. And oh, my name is Gilbert._

"You're doing it again."

"What am I doing?"

"Making weird faces. You must be drunker than I think. Is there something on your mind?"

"There is only endless worry," he replied. "I should continue on tonight."

"Not if you're drunk. And I'm concerned for your safety. Didn't you hire the mercenaries to stop that thing from getting a wishing amulet?"

"Yes. I wrote letters and attempted to sign my name and everything."

"What if you stop them from going through with their mission? Then it would have the amulet. You'd be allowing it to become infinitely more powerful. What matters is power."

" _Ja!"_ Gilbert blurted. He thrust his hand over his mouth just as he felt his teeth starting to sharpen again.

"Ja?" Her face twisted in confusion.

"Yes, but can't you see I'm saving the mercenaries' lives along with so many others? And it told me what it would do to me. If I don't retract my mercenaries, it said it will change me into a chicken, and I'd never be able to change back."

"Do you think it really cares whether you retract them or not? Either way, you'll be cursed."

 _Scheiße, Lizzy, you know me too well!_

"I'm terrified of the changeling. _Terrified._ What else am I supposed to do? It's either let it have the amulet and definitely watch through the eyes of a fowl as Volkerburg falls to pieces, or not let it have the amulet and wait until it wrenches it away from its true owner. The same outcome. Feathers."

Elizaveta sighed in conflict. She looked to the side. Gilbert furtively grabbed at his stomach, trying to catch the bird scrabbling around under his shirt. A warm feeling had begun over where he knew a badly-healed scar had reopened. How could he lose her? He couldn't keep playing the fool. If he were to assume anything, she was probably thinking of joining him.

This, he found, was true. "For one thing," she started, "I'm not letting you go anywhere alone."

"I can't go back to Edelweiss!" He shot back. "If it finds out I'm not on my way to retract my mercenaries, I'll be cursed by morning! It can take the shape of anything! It's probably watching me right now!"

"I never said you have to go back to Edelweiss, but I have to send a letter back telling the guards to call off the search for you. Where are these mercenaries?"

"Amotoile," he sighed. "You know, I can really do this by myself."

"The way you were just speaking earlier tells me you're too frail to do anything related to you-know-what by yourself."

"I have to try."

"You can't push me away this time."

"Eliza, it's too dangerous. I'm just going to apologize to them and then go home."

"You don't have any magic on your side to protect you. With me, you do."

"I don't need magic. It does more harm than help."

"And without it, how will you defend yourself against something that has it? I know you hate magic, but that night at Schloss Liutberht is far in the past. You have to say magic can also help you. No matter where you're going now, I'm coming with you."

"Got you!" Gilbert spat. He had his hand clenched tightly around the wriggling bulge of Gilbird under his jacket. Frantic cheeping came muffled from under the trap.

"Got what?" Elizaveta stared at the strange sight. "What's under your jacket making that noise? Roderich, what is that?"

"I don't know what it is. It sounds like—" He pushed the bulge down until the bird dropped out of his jacket and onto the pavement. It was disoriented and hobbled around, unsure of how to walk after being trapped in the darkness. "A _bird!_ How did this bird get under my shirt?"

"How long has that bird been in your shirt?"

"I don't even remember it getting in!"

"You couldn't feel it under there? You had to have felt squirming. Is this a new curse? Do you make birds appear around you?"

"Of course not. This is my new messenger bird. It's very smart. I didn't notice until just a little bit ago."

"Is its intelligence enhanced by magic?"

"Well, maybe, but it serves its purpose as a non-malicious helper."

"How many 'non-malicious helpers' do you need? First you buy that creepy _thing_ that stares at the paintings, and now a special bird? It's magic, Roddy! It's magic, and it's helping you. See, you've already accepted it into your life. Let me come with you."

"You can't come," he said plainly, though his frustration was rising. A stinging pain shot through his abdomen. He almost put his hand in his pocket to press fabric over the wound before remembering it contained the iron ring. Instead, he bent down and scooped up the poor bird in his hands. It flew up and perched on his head again.

"Now I must go." He made his way through the streets toward the outer edge of town where his horse was. Annoyingly, Elizaveta followed right behind, a countenance of firm conviction present. Gilbert's gait was unsteady as he continued on. Gilbird kept chirping.

"You're acting really weird," the witch said once they neared the horse. "I'm not going to let you ride when you're this drunk."

"How am I any weirder than usual when I'm drunk? I'm perfectly fine to continue on. I must continue on."

"You're walking weird."

"Because I am drunk."

"That's not what I meant. You're walking _faster._ You never rush when you're walking."

"Well, perhaps if you were trying to save your soul from a vindictive creature of darkness, you'd walk faster, too."

 _Lay off me, woman!_

"Roderich Edelstein, you're not strong enough to ride off by yourself."

"I need to."

"Why can't you let me come? Why are you so pushy with me tonight? It's not like you at all to not accept help when you clearly need it. I know you're scared, but if retracting these mercenaries is that important to you, I will come along to help you. This just reminds me of that time when you were coming home that night from your hopeless bargaining at Liutberht, and the man who came home wasn't you!"

"No, it was me!" He blurted before cursing and throwing his hand over his mouth again. This was too complicated. He didn't want to charm her, but she was pushing him close to the edge. His mischievous tics kept showing. The alcohol kept spiking his pride. Sooner or later, he'd say something even dumber.

"Yes, it was you the second time! The _real_ you! Not the creature wearing your shape! What's wrong with you? Does your jaw hurt?"

" _Ja,_ must be the beer."

"Since when do you say _ja_ so casually like that?"

"I'm drunk," he spat before working furiously to remember how his teeth had felt before and changing them back. Perhaps it was getting time to drop the charade.

Elizaveta shook her head in frustration. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at his forehead. "I'm going to put a sleeping spell on you. You're not yourself, and before I suspect anything magical, I'm going to find out if it really is the alcohol making you act this way."

Gilbert grit his teeth. "I am the man you loved. Why this mistrust?"

"Forgive me, but you aren't making any sense. Just one night. You need to sleep."

"So do you, and you won't be sleeping beside me."

"I will. I promise I will. Just let me cast a simple spell on you."

"The same," Gilbert sneered.

She drew back. "What? What did you just…?"

And before she could finish her sentence, he'd snatched her wand and threw it down into the grass. He thrust his palm to her forehead with sharper teeth in full view. His other arm he drew tightly around her back.

"Y-you're the changeling."

" _Ja."_

"What have you done to him?"

"Nothing as of yet. He's very comfortable. But once I tell his mercenaries 'I'm' cancelling their mission, oh, then he'll be in trouble. In debt from the mercs taking what's theirs, and certainly out of body once that amulet is mine."

"Why do you hate him?"

"I'm a revolutionary waging a little war against humanity, fair witch. He is a ruthless enemy of my kind. I already have an alliance with the dark wizard Gilbert. We've agreed on Roderich's destiny."

There was a spark in her eyes, then. Gilbert realized he shouldn't have said the last part. The clues were connecting.

"You have an intelligent bird, and… Gilbert never shows his face. His hands are thin as death. The dark wizard visited Edelweiss, and you did, too. He and his familiar are never seen together. And the _smirking._ "

" _Finally! I don't have to sound like an eccentric frog anymore!"_ Gilbert shouted before exploding into raucous laughter. He loosened his grip on the witch, who made quick work of squirming out of his clutches and shoving him to the ground.

"Gilbert!" She shrieked

" _Ja? I'm awesome, I know!"_ He grinned at her, allowing his face the freedom of being as Gilbertish as usual.

"You're Gilbert. The dark wizard Gilbert."

" _And I'm a changeling. Congratulations. You're the third person to ever know after my dog-man and froggy-piano-loser-boy."_

She looked at him with fire in her eyes. "He knew, didn't he? He knew you were both. And he couldn't tell anyone because of the curse. It's been _you_ all these years. _You_ numbed his legs. _You_ put the curse on his vision. _You…_ you left my husband out in the storm and pretended to be him. That was _you!"_ Her anger morphed into disgust.

" _Funny how one name can take so many forms. Literally. Haha!"_

Elizaveta was already over to the place where Gilbert had thrown her wand. She snatched it up, and in another flash, was next to him and pointing it at his head.

" _I thought we were friends."_

"Never."

" _I guess you're right. You did get me in the shoulder the first time we met."_

"That's right, and I'll have you know I've become a much better witch over the years."

" _Same with my wizarding!"_

"But I think you're at a loss. You don't have your magic flute, and seeing that you just told me you're looking to use wishes for evil, I can think of nothing better than to put a binding hex on you and bring you to justice once and for all. Tell me where you put Roderich's body. Give him back."

" _Gilbird, attack."_

In a flurry of feathers, Gilbird launched off its master's head and right into Elizaveta's face. Its wings beat furiously as it performed a small-scale version of Gilbert's eagle attack. This was enough to distract her. She grabbed at her face, but it was too quick.

Gilbert pulled at the wand again, but she held on tight. Through the tiny warrior, she aimed it at him and shot a beam of green light. Gilbert rolled to dodge, but he whined at the open scar still pulsing beneath his shirt. His drunkenness made him dizzy.

"It hurts, doesn't it!?"

" _You didn't hit me, witchy woman!"_

But she did hit him soon enough. The witch had managed to snatch his feathery minion out of the air and stun it with a spark from her wand. It dropped to the ground motionless.

" _Gilbird, no!"_

But he couldn't do anything because she grabbed him by the front of his jacket and slammed him into the ground. His vision blurred even more.

"You wish you were more powerful now, don't you?"

" _I'm awesome!"_

"But you're on the ground, and I'm going to bind you and bring you to the authorities."

" _You'll never make me reveal who I really am."_

" _Enthüllung."_

" _I am immune to_ Enthüllung." He wasn't, but his confidence was crumbling. _"And what is Schloss Liutberht? I could use some new taunting material."_

The witch's face was filled with rage. She put the tip of her wand onto his chest and began speaking foreign words. He felt himself begin to stiffen. His stomach churned. A veil of green energy pulled his legs together. His chest felt like lead.

It was now or never. She pushed him to this. Gilbert sat up. The scar on his belly seared, and his weak back muscles strained, but he managed to thrust his palm to her forehead the split second before she pushed him down again.

" _Trance."_

Elizaveta dropped the wand. Gilbert groaned. Her magic, without one to guide it, warped and dissipated around him. It shocked him in places. He rose ever-slowly to see her eyes tinged with red.

" _I didn't want to do this,"_ he told her. " _It was fun to see your reaction, but I can't risk anything in my current situation. I have to erase your memories. Now, can you hear my voice?"_

" _Yes,"_ she said.

" _Repeat after me. I'm going to forget everything that happened since I entered the tavern tonight."_

She repeated.

" _I'm going to return to Edelweiss and tell the guards Roderich is safe. He is taking care of business in Amotoile which he had to leave quickly for. The dark wizard's thievery was just a coincidence with his absence."_

She repeated.

" _I will never hurt a bird again."_

When all clauses were impressed into her captive mind, he put her to sleep and pecked her cheek before taking his bird and letting the horse carry his battered body on toward Piyo Fortress.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **I'm really proud to say that this is the one-year anniversary of the first chapter's publication. While _Hetafata_ isn't over yet, I'd like to say thank you to all who have followed, faved, reviewed, or simply taken the time to read my contribution to the amazing world of Hetalia. I feel like I've really improved in my writing this year, and concocting this crazy story has really turned my life upside down. (Feliciano was originally a faun!) Cheers to another year!  
**


	47. Eagle Scratch

He woke up choking on an ice cube.

The dog-man snapped his jaws together, but the frozen menace still hung in his throat, numbing it and causing him to hack in panic. Only when it melted completely did he whimper and attempt to lick his wet muzzle.

There were several pains in his body. He looked down at his paws. They were sticky with dried blood. He turned to see the rest of him, but the stiffness stopped him, and he whined in his throat. His muscles felt like they were pumped with a viscous fire and swollen from its bubbling. There was a curious sting in his right ear. The dog-man lay his head down again and closed his eyes. He felt the insatiable urge to lick his wounds, but moving was too harsh an ordeal.

He barely got to sleep again when his body burned more intensely than before. He snarled and whined at the throes of transformation wracking him from head to tail. The voice in his head tried to calm him, but he was too furious and terrified to listen.

At least the loss of his fur relieved some of the heat. Slowly, Ludwig clenched a shuddery hand and noted its lack of claws. _Human._ He had changed back. The bright light assaulting his eyes could only confirm it.

His body only felt the same. His limbs pulsed, and his head felt as heavy as iron. He could hear his blood rushing through him. His heart was racing.

"F-feli..." he croaked. "Feliciano… I'm awake."

"Felice is gone," said a sour voice that was much too loud for his current state of mind.

Ludwig squinted. Someone was leaning over him. He could only make out the tanned skin that belonged to Lovino. He closed his eyes again to stop the flood of information from reaching his brain. _Gone?_

As if responding to his thoughts, Lovino spoke again. "You really turned into a monster. You were going to kill the changeling, but the demon froze you. That flightless bastard put a magic binding on me, and I fought all night to escape. The mercenaries took my brother. I couldn't stop them."

Ludwig's head pounded as he remembered the events of the previous night _. Intruders. Alfred. Fighting. Pain. Cold._

"I… lost my mind."

"No shit. You moved like an animal. The body and mind of a beast. You had your jaws around his tail, and you wouldn't let go. He was crying. Not like I care. They stole my brother away from me."

"The mercenaries took Feliciano."

"Yes, the mercenaries took Feliciano! What do you think I just said, eh!?"

"Don't shout. My head… hurts."

"Yeah, and a lot more of you hurts, too. Claw marks in your side. Slash to your face right there. Bruised shoulder. He got a chunk out of your ear. Not too bad. More like a nick."

"He got revenge." Ludwig produced a weak smile. So that's what the stinging was.

But he didn't feel proud of it at all. He wished he could have better warned the changeling boy before he pushed the dog-man over the edge. It was not like fighting a sentient beast. Alfred did not fight Ludwig. He fought a much more dangerous being using Ludwig. Something had snapped, and the dog-man had let instinct rage over his opponent.

And the consequence for him, it seemed, was just as dire.

"Did I… kill him?"

"No. I told you the demon took your jaws off his tail. They both escaped together. The changeling turned back into a man, and the demon had to carry him off because you chewed up his leg."

A metallic pang of jealousy struck him. His muscles tensed. _Turn back into a man all by himself. What even is that phrase?_

"You look like total crap. You didn't have to rip that blanket away. It's cold out here."

He cracked his eyes again. He now saw a faint green glow surrounding the fairy. If he blinked, he could see that Lovino's body was bathed in little green flames.

"I have to get him back," Ludwig forced.

"Woah, woah, don't be trying to get up."

Ludwig pushed at the ground, straining his bruised arms. His vision blurred again. His muscles quivered.

"Stop. Lie down."

"I need him back. I need that amulet. I can't take this anymore."

"Lie down! In Allegria, we rest when we're injured!"

Ludwig collapsed. His breathing was rapid. He coughed and rolled over onto his back.

"What kind of stupid idea was that? You're not my best friend, but I can't let you push yourself like that. Have some dignity. Humans don't have much to begin with."

"I tried to kill him _twice_. I couldn't control the monster I became. You're sure he was safe?"

Lovino screwed up his face. "You're asking if a changeling is safe?"

"Changelings are people with both good and bad intentions, and I know Alfred is young. He shouldn't have to live with memories of being attacked so savagely. I can even start to remember biting his leg. He's an idiot for trying to fight me in the first place, but I have to apologize."

"After he takes those spells out of my brother's head and gives him back! Then you can take him out on a picnic for all I care. With your fancy magic amulet my brother gives you because I'm _fine_ with that."

 _How exactly did we convince him? Never mind, I'll think about it later._ "Lovino, you know healing magic, don't you? You healed my brother's bird."

"Hmph, yeah. I learned something at Straffino College before those biased pricks threw me out. They wanted one of Roma's grandsons to matriculate, eh? Keep the tradition going? My grandfather went, my father went, and when I turned sixteen, I went. I had so much power over growing things, but I didn't have that pretty voice they wanted.

"They kept making up excuses to scold me just like everyone does. Thought I was too lazy to try. I _did_ try, but I know they just didn't want to nurture my magic. They wanted to nurture my brother's gift. Such a rare gift, they said. Two thousand years ago, _everyone_ was a music caster, they said. Now Allegria's musician blood is nearly dried up forever. Now Allegrians see it as a mark of _nobility_ to be born with the power to sing nature to your will. Like having a stamp on your ass that says you ought to be treated like a god on earth.

"No such mark on vine-twisting Lovino. I was cast aside as Gigi's firstborn _garden fairy_. But I like to relish that when Felice came of age, he was too tired from studying under sad, old what's-his-face in Volkerburg and just lived at home. The tradition was broken, and Straffino never heard the voice of Gigi's second son. At least Deepishmond didn't get him either. If he'd been beguiled into going there, my forefathers would've sung him sad songs from their graves. The Isle doesn't know music. It's all silliness with no real meaning."

"Very nice story, Lovino, but you need to heal me now. If we're going to get him back, I need my strength."

"Where does it hurt, mundane?"

"I'm hardly 'mundane.'"

"That's what all humans think. Then they get their hands on magic and realize how powerless they really are."

" _I'm_ searching for magic."

"Exactly. So feel your helplessness."

"You think I don't? I'm asking a fairy to heal me right now. Start with the claw marks in my side. They hurt when I breathe."

Grumbling, Lovino placed his hands over the scabbed fissures. Without a tune to guide his magic, his hands glowed an olive green, and the injuries instantly flared in greater pain. Lovino's casting style was much more straightforward than his brother's. There was no showiness or gentleness. Ludwig had asked to be healed, and Lovino dissolved the old scabs and pulled his flesh together with no time to ease up on his discomfort.

At least he was quick about it.

Ludwig thought of Alfred again. His memories were fading back into consciousness. He could hear the sound of the boy crying out for help before he was stunned and everything was cold. It wasn't Alfred's fault, his rational mind decided. He didn't know what he was getting into. It was the dog-man's frustration which caused all this. The boiling frustration from his daylife spilled into his nightlife. And while Ludwig _was_ extremely frustrated with the mercenaries, he would never try to kill one of them — especially not the young changeling.

All he could do now was wince as the wounds closed one by one. Once he was able to breathe more, his head cleared. He tried now to sit up, and after shaking a bit, managed to succeed.

"I'm not done."

" _Ja,_ but I feel stronger now."

"Only with my help," Lovino said proudly. At least he felt proud of himself somehow, Ludwig thought, (though he couldn't help feeling skeptical over the given reason for the fairy's expulsion.)

"Thank you, Lovino. Can you give me a heat spell, too?"

"Yeah, I can try to do this one. You like sucking up, don't you, human? Begging for magic like a…" he broke off.

"Shut up."

"Magic-beggar," Lovino scowled. Then he reached out and touched Ludwig's chest with a finger licked by flames. Ludwig recoiled as they jumped to his own body and spread. They danced over his skin with only a pleasant warmth as the product. Ludwig realized then how tired he really was. He could sleep for another day just to recover from the evils of the battle. Sleep off the pain and the cold and the guilt.

But Feliciano had been captured again, and something told him the mercenaries wouldn't let him escape so easily a second time. He had no idea what they planned to do with him. Perhaps they would take him to Allegria so he could search for his amulet, but maybe they assumed he would assume this and take him somewhere else. Beguiled, Feliciano would never trust them. Ludwig had to pursue. For the fairy's welfare and his own, Feliciano had to be rescued.

His sore muscles continued to pain him, but when he was strong enough to stand, he surveyed the expanse of the beach and the remnants of the encounter. The sand was made up of dark blobs in places and kicked up wildly. Kiku lay floating unconscious over by the cliff. The bags were opened…

"No," Ludwig huffed under his breath. "No. No, they didn't." He clutched his chest as he ran over. He ripped the contents out and scattered them onto the sand, but his fears were confirmed.

They had stolen the wand.

"They took the wand. It's gone…" He slumped, and his head pulsed with dizziness. His muscles strained to keep him upright.

"You lost a lot of blood," Lovino explained. "Can't be good if your human body has even less than your other one."

Ludwig took a shuddery breath. " _Ja,_ and my natural healing isn't as quick as a fairy's. But they must be stopped." He lay down right where he sat. "I must stop them. I need to get him back."

"We both want him back! No use saying it out loud anymore!" Lovino burst out.

" _Scheiße,_ Lovino. Can't you give me an energy boost, or at least make me feel a little stronger?"

"I can close wounds and repair bones. That warm, fuzzy stuff is my brother's talent. You have to rest. I'll go look for them."

"You can't leave me here."

"I'm going down the beach. That's where they all went last night. I don't think they went too far. I'll be back soon."

Ludwig pushed himself up, but Lovino flicked his wrist, and an invisible force pushed him back into the sand. The flames on his skin intensified. His eyelids fluttered. It was so warm and nice… perhaps he should sleep another hour or two. But he couldn't leave Feliciano with the mercenaries.

"I'll be back soon," Lovino promised. "Sleep. The freaky ghost is doing it."

Forcing himself to forget the circumstances, Ludwig submitted to his body's needs.

* * *

"You can't simply walk into Volkerburg, Alfred. Need I explain again what will happen?"

"I won't listen."

"Fine. Again. You know, there are powerful mind-meddling spells that will allow me to show you this as if you're experiencing it."

"I'm not gonna get killed."

"Volkerburg is an extremely traditional country when it comes to dealing with magical creatures. They use horrible rituals like this one all the time. Hmm, though perhaps they work. The pentagram is supposed to prevent the changeling's magical energy from returning to the shadows."

Alfred growled a warning in his throat.

"Of what I've read, the changeling is in the center of the pentagram. The archers, each with an iron-tipped arrow, stand at the points. At midnight on a new moon, they all fire at the same time, striking their target in the heart from five different directions. If there's anything left of the changeling after he's all burnt up, it's buried in a shadowless clearing since it is believed shadows can cause rebirth. Since we wouldn't be under Amotoile law, we couldn't pardon you. All it would take is for someone to prove what you are to a witness and sign for your execution. Doesn't matter if you've swapped or not."

"How come Gilbert's not dead?"

"You don't know that he isn't."

"I _do_ know he isn't. It's a gut feeling, and don't call that stupid. Gilbert's super smart. He knows the ins and outs of magic in Volkerburg. Our dark wizard baddy is somewhere in Volkerburg, and I'm not afraid. If Gilbert can evade death using all the changeling tricks he knows, I'm sure I can, too."

"People say they aren't afraid when they aren't yet in direct danger. I used to say it all the time before my arrest. But some things are just too far beyond your control."

"Your spell's effects were beyond your control, and it lasted for a while before your arrest. That's what I got out of that."

"Cheeky one."

"Did it feed on your live magic, or was it meant to wear off after a while?"

"Neither."

"Neither? So you cast it once, and it was meant to hold forever? That sounds like a curse, milord. You put a curse on someone?"

"Yes, on myself," Arthur said with a smirk.

"Really?" His eyes glittered.

"Of course! It's called the curse of a dying reputation!"

Alfred looked as if he were nearly going to punch the tree in front of him.

"I'm not going to tell you what I did."

"Curses!"

"Maybe it was a curse, and maybe it wasn't, but I certainly cursed myself. Ah, those days were quite entertaining at first."

* * *

Lord Kirkland picked off the seal and took out the letter from its envelope. He unfolded it, then sitting down with a scone in in the other hand, began to read yet another rejection.

 _Dear Lord Kirkland,_

 _You may remember how my daughter and I attended Kirkland Manor last June with the intention of finding you a most worthy and agreeable gentleman, fit to possibly suit her in matrimony. Prior to this event, I had expressed my utmost faith in your habits of decorum and talents in the magickal arts and sciences. I assumed an esteemed and academically-inclined Kirkland's acceptance of my daughter's hand would secure her, would she ever be at risk of poverty in her occupation…_

… _It has recently come to my attention the complete nature and severity of your offence, and upon hearing rumours you have always waged quiet rebellion upon our country's well-intentioned laws, I now find you most disagreeable indeed and unkindly retract my earlier requests. We will no longer visit Kirkland Manor in the summertime, nor at any time during the year. My condolences for your ineptitude._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Mr. J. Warbley_

Arthur laughed at the letter. "Didn't want to marry her anyway! She had an enormous mole under her chin! And honestly, in these changing times, why bother kissing any rich man's arse? Women are feisty creatures who could do or do without falling in love with a _real_ person. And 'my ineptitude.' I'd like to see you try performing Ara's Skybeam, Mr. Warbley. It took me three years to learn that ancient spell. It can only be cast by a true master of the craft, and I can do it flawlessly."

He chuckled on like this for several more letters — rejections of requests, rejections of friendships, rejections of general cordiality and this verbose thing and that verbose thing, and of course, mockeries from his brothers.

"Your daughter nearly discovered my dark experiments. That's why I wasn't 'agreeable' enough that day."

"You said I had winged caterpillars on my face."

"My family has two boys named O'Conor and three — _four_ — no, _three_ boys named Kirkland. I'm a Kirkland. Get us right, you piece of ineptitude."

"Mum!? Why would you write such a thing!?"

The formal suspension of his magician's license was the one thing which he didn't laugh at. It chilled him from the inside, and reality was cold indeed. It was the screeching halt to his livelihood, and with the current state of his crumbling reputation, the effects would most likely last for a very long time.

"But at least I'm well-off," he said nervously.

Well-off. A rich fairy stripped of his powers was no more useful than a rich human. He eyed the band of metal around his wrist dangerously.

* * *

He lay on a patch of grass considering this memory. Luckily, he wasn't trapped in his own home anymore, and he could feel his power coursing freely through him. _Freedom._ That's what he had, now, though it was probably only temporary. Perhaps the Council had realized being locked up with that other punishment was slowly driving him mad.

The sound of shifting grass caught his attention. Alfred sat up and peered over the rim of the lake where they were situated.

"It's that fairy with the broken wing. We gotta get back to camp. He's probably looking for Feli."

They returned together to find a hearty breakfast whipped up from an earlier visit into town. Alfred dove in with the greatest of pleasure. He quickly tugged at everyone else's equal portions before resorting to sneaking food off Matthew's plate whenever he wasn't looking.

"I heard what happened to your leg," Yao said. "Do you really feel better? I could make you some tea if it's still painful."

"Nah, it feels fine." He pulled up his pant leg to show the others the nonexistent wound. "Arts got me on the path to recovery last night, and I think with my fast healing, a good long rest was all I needed. The last thing was restoring my magic, and now that my stomach's happy, I should feel a lot stronger."

"I feel like we should give some food to our friend over there. He looks rather uncomfortable," Francis said worriedly. He pointed to Feliciano, who was still tied to the tree. His wings had been covered with a blanket to prevent them from freezing.

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, he probably needs to be untied. But we can't let him fly away again."

"We can let him have a break and some food," said Arthur. "The charm is keeping him frozen, but it's not quite suspended animation. It's more like he's petrified out of an enhanced fear."

All eyes were on the changeling.

"So he can't look at me without freezing, eh?"

"Me neither," Matthew grumbled, "since I look just like you."

"Well, I s'pose we could take a little walk while Feli eats some breakfast 'n does what he needs to do. Come on, Matt. Oh, hey, before I forget, I need to tell you guys about my awesome plan for what to do with him."

"Your death wish, you mean," Arthur retorted.

"No more fighting!" Yao snapped, assuming this was what the plan entailed.

Alfred grit his teeth and ignored this. He led his brother away from the camp and near to the tree-lined section of small cliff where he and Arthur had been watching the river for signs of opposition.

"Um… Alfred."

"Yeah?"

"You know how you… you know how you look just like me?"

"Mm hm."

"Could you maybe change just a little bit? You can do that, right? Just so we aren't identical."

"But we're not identical."

"I know, but can you make yourself look not like me just for a little while?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Why? I like this shape."

"I know, but, you see… the reason I was beat up yesterday was because someone thought because I looked like you, and I couldn't walk, that I was a changeling."

"Somebody thought you were a changeling." Instead of seriousness, Alfred looked as if he were about to laugh.

"He said they can be born wrong, and they can't hide weak bones when they take new forms, so he thought I'd tried changing into you, but I couldn't walk right, and he said something about Depth. Like there was something weird about my eyes. What's Depth?"

"Depth? It's like… showing your true power in your eyes. Your true self. But only changelings have it."

"I don't have anything like that. My eyes don't look weird when I look in a mirror."

"Do _my_ eyes look weird? Damn, I need my glasses back. I didn't get Ivan to pick them up for me. Don't tell anyone, but I didn't walk back last night. Anyway…"

"Yeah, you were busted the moment we all saw the stains on Ivan's coat. And your eyes don't look weird, unless I'm wrong. They're just blue and sparkly."

"What color are the sparkles?"

"Blue, like how Arthur has green sparkles. That's stardust, right?"

"Right. You can't see Depth. If you could, you'd see really deep blue stardust, and my eyes would look kinna hollow and… aged, I guess. Hmm… yeah, your eyes do look suspicious. I think it's 'cause of the potion. Dark magic is really powerful, so I think after you transformed, a lot of it was still left in your body. It's fading, but there's a dark shimmer. You must not be able to see it yourself 'cause you're not a magical being."

"So others can see your Depth?"

"My glasses hide it. I hope they didn't get stolen down there. That illusion charm on them is tricky, and I'd hate to find something else to disguise me. My buddy Mathias has a charm necklace to hide his Depth."

"So I just wanted to ask if you'd maybe consider changing your appearance just enough so people don't see my awkward gait and think I'm trying to copy you. Is that maybe something you could do?"

"I'dafta see. Or wait, here. I don't want you getting in trouble for something stupid like that. Look at me."

Alfred grabbed Matthew's shoulders. He bit his lip, then studied his brother's facial features. How to not look so similar? He really did like this appearance. Maybe just slip back a little more? Without looking suspicious? He pulled on a strand of golden hair and imagined its usual white. The color started to fade. He stopped shortly after it had turned a dull, wheat-blond hue. He did the same with his eyes. They became a grayish blue like ocean waves anticipating a storm. His skin paled slightly.

"That look better?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. The difference is clearer now."

"All right. Thanks for telling me. You know, I could've handled it if someone was causing trouble."

"No, they were after the one who got caught in Fleur de Vie. That was you."

Alfred clicked his tongue as he surveyed the beach below. "I knew someone would be after me. All the better for getting out of this country. Look, the chances of danger might be higher in Volkerburg, but the general paranoia is a lot lower."

"What about Volkerburg?"

"This plan I've got to get rid of that spell on Feliciano. We're gonna take him to my old mentor, Gilbert." He started to unbutton his pajama shirt.

"Why is Volkerburg so dangerous?"

"'Cause all it would take is for someone to prove what I am to a witness and sign for my execution."

Matthew gasped. "Execution!?"

"That's the word Arthur used. I realize I was born the creature everyone's scared of, but we don't really have a choice. The dark wizard lives in Volkerburg," Alfred reasoned as he slipped off the shirt and stretched his arms above his head.

"Wasn't that incense invented there, too?"

"I think so."

"Do you have to go there?"

"I'm the one who knows Gilbert, so yeah." He breathed in and shook his hands a bit, then bent down to take off his pants and boots and grip the grassy soil with his toes.

"What are you doing?"

"Turning into an eagle to let off some steam." After mentioning this, his worried expression melted into a grin.

"You can do that…?"

"Yeah. I told you I can."

"I still can't believe it. You're a shapeshifter."

"What else would I be? The King of Spades?"

"Nothing would surprise me."

His arms were now out to the sides, and he steadied his breathing the best he could. His wrists rolled, and his fingers outstretched.

Alfred recalled all his memories of flying and all his hours of sketching. He saw every twitch of a feather as the wind blew past lifting him higher into the sky. In his imagination, he distanced himself from his current body, instead focusing on the eagle. What it felt like. What it looked like. How he would change to fit those feelings. His power hummed, and his subconscious awakened. He gave a pleasured sigh at the itch beginning to spread beneath his skin. He was firmly in control. Slow and gentle.

But he couldn't stop the warmth from immediately flowing to his arms and hands, which were already quivering in anticipation to transform. The bones cracked, and the pressure strengthened as they stretched and squeezed into what looked like wiry, featherless branches. His hands felt tingly and weak before crunching down into the ends of the extensive wing bones. The only remaining digits were his thumbs, which stuck out as single sharp points at the second joints. His bones bubbled. They changed to spongy and hollow, making him feel lighter than air.

Feathers came next, springing up over his skin and thickening into a glossy, soft-looking coat. Long plumes shot out where his fingers used to be, and smaller feathers sprouted over his former arms. They grew longer and stretched layer by layer out from the new wings until the great brown structures were massive — each one over his height in length and feathered from his shoulders to his hips. His back muscles strengthened like steel. A shadow was cast over his brother behind. He shifted the wings to balance and fluttered a bit to make sure they felt sound. Perfect eagle's wings. He was ready to float away out of joy without even using them.

Alfred shook his head and regained concentration. He began shrinking. His legs cracked, then buckled. Ribs squeezed tightly inward. He held his breath as his chest itched furiously. The muscles tightened before puffing out and growing a proud coat of feathers. He breathed in to test the raptor's lungs reforming inside. A tight, gurgling sensation brought his organs into new shapes and locations.

White feathers thickened around his lengthening neck. They tickled as they crept upward over his face. His wheat-colored hair split into flaky feathers that smoothed over into delicate, downy, snowy ones. His ears diminished to tiny holes covered up by the feathers. He blinked after feeling his brow ridges thicken, and… yes, he could feel his eyes changing. Everything blurred before coming into sharp definition. He could make out the cracks on trees across the lake. He would've smiled, but his lips and nose had hardened and protruded out into the powerful hooked beak.

His legs continued to snap. His pelvis had changed shape and shifted back to leave his body angled over them. The outer toes melted and merged to leave three on each foot. The skin had turned bright yellow and was toughening into a scaly hide over his feet. The toenails curled into wicked black talons. He flexed them in intrigue. His heels shrank and stretched into back talons. Knees popped, reversing position. A stress behind him was relieved when his spine pushed back. A fan of white plumes emerged and spread out to form his avian tail.

 _This_ was that feeling. This was the eagle's shape. The warmth faded to leave him feeling more solid. Alfred inspected his work. The wings flapped nicely. It seemed that their joints were in proper position, and the feathers had grown in even rows. He clicked his beak. It was sharp and deadly, as were his new talons.

He hobbled around to look at Matthew, who looked as if he were coming out of a daze. The man looked absolutely dumbstruck. Alfred attempted to smile and wink. When this didn't get through to him, he stretched out his wings to admire them. Something to show he was still sentient after such a dramatic transformation.

"Al?"

Alfred nodded the best he could. Matthew brought a hand to his mouth in awe. He had to wipe off his pince-nez and blink several times before coming to what Alfred assumed was acceptance of what he'd just witnessed. Silly Matthew. Why was turning into an eagle so impressive?

Soon, though, he realized how impressive his feat really was. He had changed completely without a reference to guide him. He had known how to stretch his arms into wings and how to puff out his chest and how to squeeze his feet down into scaly talons.

He had memorized the eagle's form.

 _Oh, my freaking stars!_ He exclaimed in his head. Victorious twittering exploded from his beak. _I transformed into an eagle! I always wanted to! Just like Gilbert! Oh, yes! I can tell Gilbert I did it! No, I can_ show _him!  
_

Overwhelmed by excitement, he leaped off the small cliff and flapped his wings. The air caught him quickly, like a soft cushion ready to embrace him for the grand creature he had become. Alfred stretched his wings and soared. His body tilted ever so slightly, and his tail feathers twitched in the wind. Memories flooded back with full force now. The experience of floating weightlessly on two great wings was just as exhilarating as the first time he'd done it thirteen years ago. The eagle was king, and the sky his queen robed in blue and gray.

He had only flown so far when his fantastic eyesight picked out the form of a human lying in the sand. Making out the blond hair and muscular frame, he realized it was Ludwig. He circled downward and eyed the scene more closely. It seemed Ludwig had fallen asleep near the bags where Yao had taken the wand. He turned his head to look for a glint. Luckily, he saw one. His glasses were right where he'd thrown them. Alfred flapped his wings and landed softly in the sand.

His first priority, however, was to make certain of his appearance. He folded his wings and hobbled to where the water pooled in a peaceful hole. His head bobbed down. It was the white-headed reflection of a bald eagle, yet somehow it still resembled him. For one thing, a single feather stuck out from the front of his head almost like his ever-present cowlick. There was a certain, youthful gleam in his golden eyes that was certainly not aquiline. And was that a tiny white star on his beak? This, he realized, was _his_ eagle shape. A form of his own invention not copied or mimicked. It made him even prouder.

He stretched out the wings to truly see how they dwarfed the rest of him. His wingspan was six feet in length — just over his normal height as a fairy. Alfred decided right then that even being Feliciano with wings on his back was no match for changing into a raptor. He twittered in self-commendation. His voice amused him. It was high-pitched and chirpy, yet it was a prideful voice that sounded like the laughter of a patriot.

"No…"

Alfred twitched his head up. Ludwig was looking at him with a pained expression. The eagle lifted his wings and flew over to land near him.

"Who are you?" Ludwig asked.

He opened his beak, but only a squeak came out. Of course he couldn't say directly. Alfred eyed the water and quickly came to a solution. He took a talon and scratched a letter _A_ in the wet sand. He looked to Ludwig for confirmation of understanding.

"Alfred?"

He nodded an eagle's nod.

Ludwig scowled. "Did you come to apologize?"

He scratched _NO._

"Negotiate peace?"

 _NO._

"You won't give him back."

 _NO._

"What are you going to do with him? Where are you taking him?"

Alfred pondered before scratching _WHY I TELL?_

"Fine. He's beguiled. But he's my friend, and he does care about me."

 _LIES._

"Not lies. You still don't understand."

 _YOU BAD GUY._

"I am not. I'm not evil, and my brother is not a dark wizard. He's just an ordinary man."

 _LIES._

"All the proof you have is in that letter with a smudged signature. You don't even know who wrote it. How do you know you can even trust it?"

 _SPELL ON FELI. YOU NOT WIZARD._

Ludwig glared at the raptor, who stood just a little straighter and prouder on the beach.

"I want to know one thing," he said. "Were you the black eagle that attacked me a few days ago? Was that you? Be honest."

Alfred cocked his head to the side.

 _NO._

"So that wasn't you. Strange. I knew it wasn't a changeling, but what was it? Anyway, I'd like to let you know that I _will_ have Feliciano back once I recover. All you mercenaries had better watch your necks. I'm going to personally make sure none of you get that 'reward', and I'm going to find that lunatic who hired you and knock him senseless. Do you hear me?"

 _DARK WIZARD IS CHANGELING._

The human locked his eyes with the bird. His hand clenched into a fist next to his sore body.

"How do you know?"

 _YOU KNOW?_

He said nothing, but Alfred's intimidating gaze insisted he answer.

"I'm not telling you anything."

 _OK. BUT HE IS._

The eagle flew over and picked up the pair of glasses in his beak.

Before he could fly off on a sour note, Ludwig had to get this apology over with. "Alfred, I'm sorry for last night. It wasn't a fair fight. You're making yourself a real enemy, but I didn't mean to chew up your leg. Don't think the dog-man and I are the same person. I… hope you can forgive me."

Alfred nodded. He was healed, after all. He wished he could say the same for his opponent. Apparently Lovino's healing magic could only go so far, though it looked like those flames over Ludwig's body were comforting him.

He flew back over the the wet sand to scratch out a few more words.

 _THANKS. YOU HAVE GOOD HEART. BUT YOU BAD GUY._

"And you're brave, but it's an idiotic bravery."


	48. The Taste of Freedom

Feliciano felt nauseous — not because of the twinkling green veil constricting around his stomach — but because of the realization they were not going to let him go.

"Stop doing that. He can't breathe," Sir Francis scolded. Feliciano nodded vigorously in his discomfort, though he didn't smile. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He strained his chest against the bond.

"Who wants to hold him, then?" His captor called Arthur asked. He glanced around without his magical pressure weakening at all. Feliciano gave a squeaky little cough and whimpered.

His wings weren't restrained, but he had already tried whizzing them as hard as he could. His feet wouldn't leave the ground. The magic binding held him in one place at one altitude. He felt like an insect squeezed tightly in a giant's hand. Worried nausea rolled through him again.

He had absolutely no memory of coming here. The last thing he remembered was trying to sleep on the beach next to Doggie. Then he had heard a man laughing. He'd looked up to the small cliff, and then... nothingness. There were a few spotty memories of waking up here a few times, but they were irrelevant compared to the fact that he'd been kidnapped against his will again. Had Feliciano cursed himself by worrying so much? He'd spoken of his fears to his friends, and they came true. He certainly didn't wish for this. Now of all times, he wished he possessed the _sogno._ But what good was wishing for wishes? And it wasn't going to be his amulet once he possessed it, anyway.

In his daze, he found himself now held by the dark-haired human, (who was apparently _not_ a changeling,) who forced his hands behind his back. He flicked up his wings in fear, managing to bat the human in the stomach so he cried out in frustration. Still, he dragged Feliciano down onto the ground and held him with a grip like steel.

Feliciano realized very quickly just how serious his captors were. In the human's clutches, he looked up to the trees, where the same twinkling aura was beginning to form a dome-like shape. It stretched high above them to the ground on all sides, closing in their camp with an impenetrable force. He began shaking with panic.

"Doggie! Doggie, please help!"

"Gag him," Arthur snapped.

"That is too much," Francis retorted. "We aren't trying to frighten him. And don't we want to feed him?"

"We've already terrified him," the first reasoned. "Gag him. Don't let him use his voice." Arthur then whispered something into Francis' ear that caused him to acquiesce.

"My voice," Feliciano whispered. He then gasped. "My magic! Of course!" Feliciano sucked in some deep breaths to relax his pounding heart. Rapidly, he hummed a few notes, then sang out in a shaky tone he fought to control: " _Dormite, dormite, dormite~"_

"What's he singing?" The dark-haired one questioned.

"I don't know, but it's making me dizzy," Francis yawned.

"You fool!" Arthur retorted.

Feliciano's voice strengthened as he watched those around him start to droop in stature. With new confidence despite his upset stomach, his voice calmed and swelled into the streamlined, lilting gift he was known for. He wriggled around in the human's grip a little better now. He flicked up his wings again, all the while fine-tuning his slumber-inducing melody. " _Voi volete dormir? Sì! Voi volete dormir!"_

"Good Titania, just stay still, would you?" Arthur sluggishly growled. He had taken out a long silk handkerchief and was inching toward the fairy with it. His balance was off, and his eyes had become glazed over with tiredness. Just a bit more, the fairy thought.

He fluttered his wings a little. The human cursed and let go of his wrists before dropping to the ground exhausted. Popping up onto his boots, Feliciano rushed to where Arthur's barrier was starting to fade as its caster weakened. He pushed against the veil, straining his wings to take him further. The barrier stretched between his fingers, quickly losing rigidity.

But Feliciano had made a fatal mistake in his frantic attempt at escape: he'd stopped singing, instead opting to whisper encouragement to himself. This gave Arthur just enough time to throw himself upon the shorter fairy and tackle him to the ground. He yanked at the fragile wings.

"Aaah! That _hurts!_ Let me go!"

"Stop your damn movements, and I'll consider it."

Pained, Feliciano was unable to struggle as the handkerchief was forced in his mouth and tied around the back of his head. He flapped his wings, and Arthur cursed when one collided with his cheek with an audible _fwap._

Feliciano whined in his throat, but without a proper timbre and words, he couldn't make the green-eyed mercenary sleep like the others. He watched in horror as Arthur fixed the strength of his barrier and knelt close to him, pulling him into a sitting position. Those green eyes seethed with what Feliciano believed could be nothing else but malice.

"I'm going to make this quick and easy to digest, Feliciano. Well, perhaps not easy to digest, but understandable enough. You're under the influence of a changeling's hypnosis charm. I don't know exactly what it's making you think, but it _is_ the thing making you freeze up."

Feliciano whined as loud as he could through the gag. So Arthur was even admitting Alfred was the culprit! Whose side was he on!? Feli's wings lifted. He scooched back. Arthur grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward again.

"If you move or try to untie the gag, I'll call Alfred back here, and you can say goodbye to your precious consciousness. Now, you must understand he is not the one who put this spell on you. The 'color' of his energy is far different from what's within your mind and body. And truth be told, he's a mite hurt you think he's the one who did it."

 _It was_ _him!_ Feliciano wanted to say.

"I'd form a telepathic link between us, so you could tell me your side, but if my magic touches that spell within, it will hurt you. You have to trust what I say. I can't trust you to not to use your musical powers if you can't trust me first. Nod if you at least understand that much."

Slowly, if only to diminish the harsh look on Arthur's face, Feliciano nodded.

"Good. I know you're scared. You can't trust us because that charm is powerful, and it's forcing you to accept the inverse of what you really want to believe."

 _Want to believe?_ Feliciano shook his head vigorously. He had never thought the mercenaries were good. They had always been liars and Doggie's enemies. He would never trust them.

"Yes, you do want to trust us. You just don't know it. Do you want to know why? You've been fighting that spell without even knowing it. There's a scar over it. You've questioned yourself at points, haven't you?"

 _Never. Doggie is getting my amulet. He is grateful for it. You're just a greedy liar._

"Don't give me that look," Arthur sighed. "You won't believe me now, but maybe in the future you'll see what I mean. If it means we're your enemies until then, then we're your enemies, and that's unfortunate."

 _Of course you're my enemies! You swapped me for a changeling! You made my wings start to wilt! Your demon shattered Lovi's wing! You've made me terrified all this time! And you took me again! You took me away from my brother and my friends! And now you're just plain threatening me!_

"Now, now, don't be scared. No, really, you're going to be okay. I don't actually want to hurt you or make you feel unwelcome. Hmm, but I can't convince you of that, can I?"

Feliciano could barely consider his fate. Plagued by the thought of Alfred's return, he clutched his knees and whimpered softly. His wings quivered behind him.

"It's not as bad as it seems. You're trapped, and until we can get you free, everything is going to look scary and untrustworthy to you. Now here's what we're going to do, Feliciano. We're going to leave this little bubble of mine so you can eat and relieve yourself and such without worrying about us being around you. We'll stay out as long as you like. Not forever, but enough time to make you feel comfortable. Then we're going to figure out how to rid you of this affliction. Only the one who put that spell on you can undo it."

The fairy thrashed. He kicked his leg forward, catching Arthur in the stomach with the pointy toe of his boot. Arthur squeaked in sudden shock before clutching his middle and regaining his earlier, scarier demeanor.

"Oi, Alfred! He kicked me! You'd better come lend some heroic backup!"

Feliciano mewled with fear. Tears tugged at his eyes. _Don't make him come back. I don't want to freeze up. I won't know what you're doing while I'm frozen! I don't want Alfred to take my place! I just want him to lift the spell he put on me so I_ stop _freezing!_

"Something tells me you're still convinced Alfred is the one to blame."

He slowly nodded.

Arthur cautiously leaned in closer. "You met Alfred, didn't you? When he disguised himself in the city? You painted a portrait of him."

Another nod.

"My guess is that he acted friendly around you. Yes? Now, no matter what lies he spun with you, he usually is that friendly man he showed himself to be. Usually. Feliciano, do you really think he'd do such a thing as put a spell on you? He said right in front of you in that city you're beguiled by Ludwig's brother. He risked a lot when he said that. He ended up hiding all night with no powers and languishing strength because he made Ludwig angry. Why would he do that if he was the one to put you under the spell?"

 _To lie and make it look like he didn't. He probably beguiled you, too. You think he's nice, but you can't trust him. You just can't. He's an evil creature._

"You understand?"

He shook his head. No, in fact, Feliciano believed the inverse.

Arthur sighed. "He didn't do this to you, but someone did, and it's our mission now to make that someone take back his wickedness. We'll leave you alone for a little while so you can collect yourself. Use this time to relax. It's going to be stressful for you until you can understand."

Arthur roused the other Mercs and directed them toward a man-sized hole he made in the dome. He then beckoned for Feliciano. Arthur untied the gag and pushed him back on the inside of the barrier while he and the others slipped out.

"Alfred _did_ put the spell on me! You're all liars! Every single one of you! Doggie isn't deceiving me! I agreed to give him my amulet out of the goodness of my heart!"

The dome's wall was soundproof. Arthur, wherever he was working to sustain the enclosure's walls, couldn't hear him and didn't respond.

Feliciano looked at the ground. Tears started to well up again. Changeling's hypnosis to make him freeze up whenever Alfred was around. Make him cower in fear while who-knows-what happened to him. And these people believed everything would be okay. Yes, everything would be okay for _them_ and what _they_ believed. What about what Feliciano believed? Why must they meddle in his life just because some stupid letter told them to? Why must he be subject to their whims when he was perfectly sound of mind and strong in conviction? Didn't his opinions matter? Didn't his beliefs?

In their distorted reality, no.

"It's _my_ amulet," he sobbed. "It's _mine_ to give away to whoever I want. Doggie is my friend. Just leave us alone. Leave us alone."

A realization of reality suddenly took hold. Feliciano put a hand to his stomach. Perhaps his nausea from earlier had partially been hunger. It was no use to cry on an empty stomach, his grandfather would say. Eat first, and then purge your emotions.

Making the most of the situation, he indeed relieved himself, and then went to where there was still breakfast packed up near the fire ring. Feliciano bit into a buttery croissant and shuddered in comfort.

"I wish you were here, Grandpa. I wish you could show me what to do. I'm so lost. You always had some grand scheme when you were in trouble. You could be brave if you wanted. I'm not strong or brave. I couldn't even untie the gag because I was scared Alfred was going to come back. I wish you could just tell me how to get out of here and back to Allegria where I belong."

Without the amulet, he knew his wish wouldn't come true.

Food did help him out of his slump, if only slightly. A bottle of Amotoile-made wine was present, but he refused to drink its foreign bitterness. He knew not what lay ahead of him. All he knew was that if he couldn't escape, he was subject to whatever the mercenaries wanted.

Feliciano held his head in his hands and tried to forget about anything at all. His auburn hair shifted through his fingers. His heart dropped.

"My clip. They stole my clip. It's my family's heirloom, and they took it. My papà wore that clip before I did, and I knew he wore it proudly. Grandpa, I know you told me in the dream that he'd be proud of me, but I don't even feel proud of myself. I'm so scared."

In some way or another, he ended up humming softly to himself, and his humming turned to singing. It was the song for comfort. He felt his heart relax and his breathing even out. He no longer voiced his insecurities, as they only stressed him more. Arthur at least had a point in that everything around him was scary and untrustworthy. The mercenaries may have been downright liars, but whatever their grand scheme was, they were frank with him.

He was trapped.

* * *

Alfred perched on a high bough and listened to the self-conversation down below.

"Where's that fool gone off to? It's been over an hour. Feliciano's had plenty of time to himself. We can put him back in the icebox and decide on his fate."

 _A force field dome to trap him in? Intimidating, but clever,_ Alfred thought to himself. Swiftly, he dove off the bough and swooped to land next to Arthur.

Arthur jumped back. "Huge bird."

Using his newfound skill, Alfred took his talon and scratched in the dirt. It was tougher than the sand, so he couldn't write as much.

 _HI._

"Hi?"

He bobbed his head in agreement.

"Matthew said something about you changing into an eagle. It is you, right? What other great bird would carry those glasses in its beak?"

Alfred chirped in response. The glasses dropped down in front of him.

Arthur turned to face the trees to restore some sense of reality. "We've given Feliciano some time to himself. I'm maintaining the dome around him. All of us are somewhere around its circumference, though I think Yao's gone off to deal with Feliciano's brother. He was coming too close to us.

"And where have you flown off to? Gods, I'm talking to a bird. It's like you could be my familiar. Don't many wizards have eagles as familiars? Magicians where I'm from used to keep crows before being turned into a crow was punishment. Then we switched to dogs, but I'm really not a dog person. I much prefer cats. You don't like dogs either, I'm supposing."

"Actually, I really like dogs. Just not dog-men."

Arthur turned and shielded his eyes. Alfred shook feathers off in all directions. He stared at his hands as they finished morphing from the thickening wing bones. He coughed, and a few brown feathers flew out of his mouth. He pulled on a few strands of hair and shifted his colors only slightly.

"Mattie's mad at me for lookin' like him."

"You mustn't do that again!"

"What?"

"Change behind me like that! And now you're just _there_ completely naked. Oh, here, cover yourself. I can just use that instant laundering spell later." He whipped off his trousers, leaving him in only his undersuit.

"Your pants don't fit me," Alfred complained as he pulled them up and buttoned them the best he could around his wider hips. "This feels so weird. Talking, I mean. And my arms feel so flimsy, and what are hands? Seriously! Why do I need all these fingers and extra little wrist bones? Why does anybody? We could all just have wings, y'know? Hehe, yah-knōw. There's that northern accent." He rubbed his throat and hummed.

"So you're pretty proud of yourself."

"Yeah! I'm so excited I just wanna scream. Oh, a lot of people think eagles can scream, but that's actually a hawk noise. Eagles can call and twitter and chirp and stuff. And _people_ can just go wooo! And make whatever sounds they want! And I changed into an eagle just by remembering how it feels to be one! Isn't that great!? Huh? Isn't it?"

"Smashing, Alfred."

"You don't sound too convinced."

"So you just… transform. By imagining how the new shape would _feel_."

"Mm hm. This time I did, anyway."

"And it doesn't hurt?"

"Nope. Doesn't hurt. Unless I'm weak or tired, that is. When I was little, it hurt more 'cause my body had to get used to it, but now I'm perfectly flexible."

"I think _morphoplastic_ is what you mean. It sounds like it really hurts. All those bones reforming. It at least ought to feel _weird."_

"It really doesn't hurt. Why would it hurt if I was meant to shapeshift? And yeah, I can feel my bones shifting and stretching and stuff, but since I'm the one controlling it, it feels really natural. Hmm, how would I describe it to someone who's never done it before? The change feels itchy, kind of. But it's a good itch. This warm, itchy pressure made up of thousands of tiny pressures making little adjustments everywhere. It actually feels really nice all over."

"I'm not going to ask."

"You wanna be a shapeshifter now or something? It's dark magic, you know. Your favorite."

"I'm perfectly happy with the shape I have."

"There _is_ a transfusion spell I read about in your book that can give you my powers temporarily. I think it's called—"

"I don't care what it's called. If you've gone so far as to look at _blood_ magic, I'm never letting you even set eyes on that book again."

"I wasn't trying to look at it. A lot of dark magic is blood-based. But… wait, wait, wait, you don't want me looking at blood-based magic."

Arthur frowned.

"Your spell. It involved blood. Whose? Yours?"

The eyebrows lifted.

"Your blood."

"That doesn't tell you anything."

"Oh, it tells me a whole lot. Now, tell me, Mr. Kirkland, were you trying to enhance your body?"

Arthur began to walk away. Alfred trailed closely behind.

"But I just told you about a transfusion spell, and _you're_ not extraordinary in anything physical. Perhaps you were trying to enhance someone else's body."

Faster.

"You turned someone into a fairy with your fairy blood. Peter?"

"That is absolutely _ridiculous,_ and stop asking about Peter. That's not the type of spell I performed."

"No? Serious?"

"No. That's not what I did." He turned around and glared.

Alfred gazed into Arthur's eyes for a long and uncomfortable moment. He then shrugged. "All right, I'll take your word for it. You seem serious. But it was a blood spell."

"Yes, fine. My blood was used in the spell."

"I like how you're helping me. Like you want me to figure this out."

"I don't want you to figure it out. You just keep hassling me, and you're figuring out things on your own. I'm not telling you anything."

"And yet you did just tell me something very valuable."

"Hardly. Like you said, you have a lot to sift through."

"So I _can_ use the book."

"No, you may not use the book. I am the only one who can use the book."

"What if I need a bedtime story?"

"At thirteen?"

"To relax my mind so I can fall asleep."

"I don't know. You haven't seen your brother in seven years. Have him tell you a story about his life."

"But I want _fairytales."_

"Once upon a time, there was a changeling in Volkerburg who lived to a ripe and happy old age."

"Wow! Like Gilbert?"

"No, idiot, it was supposed to be fantasy."

"You're not a very good storyteller. How about you tell me the story of how the revered and agreeable Lord Kirkland got arrested and became a changeling's best friend?"

"Oh, now _that's_ fantasy."

"Right, because with an attitude like yours, I doubt you were revered."

"No, it's because I'm not your… I'm not your friend."

"Yeah you are."

"How so?"

"'Cause you've changed. You don't think I'm a monster anymore."

Arthur hesitated. He held his head high and stated, "I've learned to respect you. But there's a difference between respect and friendship."

"Nah, you're my buddy. You think I'm cool."

"I think you need to cool your jets."

They walked onward until coming to rendezvous with Francis and Matthew near the edge of the dome. Within was the fairy, and by the looks of things, he was singing to himself to keep from completely panicking.

"Poor guy," said Alfred. "I hate that I make him freeze. That dark wizard's gonna pay for it."

"What was that plan you were talking about earlier, Alfred?" Francis asked.

Matthew shook his head. "No, we're not doing that. Anything but that."

"My old mentor knows about the kind of charm afflicting Feliciano. He also knows about the magic scene in Volkerburg, and he's a changeling, so he'd probably know if a dark wizard in Volkerburg is also a changeling. The only problem is that he lives in Volkerburg, and apparently there's a high chance of my death occurring if we went there."

"I will not allow it!" Matthew snapped in a rare moment of authority.

"You're not me, are you?" Alfred replied with a deep and serious tone. Matthew shrank back. Alfred gestured to Arthur, who brought down the dome.

"Hey, Feli!" Alfred called.

The fairy cowered and whined in fear.

Alfred ran over and threw himself down in front of him. He locked eyes with Feliciano before the latter stiffened. Feliciano's eyes were puffy, and his cheeks had recently been soaked. Alfred's heart twinged. He put a hand on the other's shoulder.

"I'm going to help you. I promise."

"Alfred, there must be a better way to remove the spell," Francis reasoned.

"No, there really isn't. There's a wizard in the northern land as ugly as the day, and I've gotta catch him before he gets his filthy claws on that amulet. Here's a lesson, Francy. There are good and bad changelings. I'm good, and the dark wizard is bad. You want to whack someone on the back with an iron rod? Make it him."

Francis went white as a sheet. "I've changed. I've spent too many nights scolding myself for those thoughts. I don't want to hurt you. You have a good heart. I'm so terribly sorry."

"Well, good," Alfred hissed.

"And I, like the rest of us, will not allow you to endanger your life in such a savage country. Surely there is another way."

"We could hold him for ransom from Ludwig," Matthew suggested.

Alfred wiped away Feliciano's tears as he replied, "He'd never play fair, and if we gave Feli back, he'd get spelled again. We have to bite this thing where it began: the letter writer's enemy."

It was a battle that raged for hours. Alfred's conviction pressed on, while his companions tried and failed to reason with him.

Was he scared? Of course he was. He was scared out of rational thought. Alfred didn't entirely believe he was destined to be a hero. There was always that part of him that urged him to run away and never look back. Forget this life and find a new one. That was why changing felt so natural. He felt that part of him throbbing even now with Francis admitting he had seen Alfred as a threat. Without even his companions to trust, what was the point?

But being a hero, it seemed, was what drove him. It was a chance to finish something he started and to help someone in need. His kind's reputation was black as pitch, and he was going to be a difference. No, as long as changelings couldn't survive without swapping, they would be despised, but if Alfred could show someone he wasn't wicked… If he could just do something that would help… If he could satisfy those cravings to make his life ever better…

If he could prove himself…

* * *

The earth demon Tolys Laurinaitis slowly turned the handle and poked his head into the bedroom. The bed wasn't made, but he had to tear himself away from his nit-picky habits and look to the far window. Beneath it was a writing desk, and sitting there was an apparent young man with his head resting on crossed arms.

"You didn't say hello to me when you came home today, Mr. Alfred." Tolys pushed the door open wider and strode into the room. He cautiously approached the desk and its rather forlorn occupant. Alfred followed him with his eyes, but said nothing. Quickly, Tolys noticed the redness on his hands.

"What was it today?"

Alfred shrugged.

"Will you open your mouth for rhubarb bars and cream?" He offered forth the plate and glass, which Alfred greedily reached for. It was then when Tolys saw the full story. The rash wasn't just on his hands; it had traveled up to become ugly red blotches on his neck and face. Fingernail marks were scattered on its bumpy surface. Tolys could only imagine what it looked like over the rest of his body.

Alfred flinched when he realized what Tolys was looking at. "I didn't know I was allergic," he said. "I thought only some changelings are, like Mathias. He can't even eat his country's favorite dessert or his throat'll swell."

"Your voice sounds okay. Your throat isn't swollen at all?"

"I didn't eat the note. I just touched it. The juice got on my hands, and I started getting really itchy, and then the rash started showing up."

"Was it holly?"

"No, it was lingonberry. Same difference, right?"

"Holly is said to be lethal."

"Of course," Alfred droned. "My first week here, I learned I'm allergic to oatmeal, and now it's the little red berries. Iron burns me, and salt repels me. All the friggin' folk sayings are true. It's like I was summoned out of a book of myths."

"Well, the myth is true that you hold a fondness for cream."

"Cream is my shit."

"Language."

"I'm really running away this time."

Tolys' head snapped up. Alfred had somehow already downed the glass of cream and was now stuffing bars in his mouth one after the other. Tolys had had this conversation with him before. He made himself comfortable on the other chair and slipped the charm bracelet off his wrist. A faint pulse rippled through his body as the illusion vanished, revealing his earthy green skin and goatish nose and the thick brown horns that curled from the sides of his head forward. It seemed appearing nonhuman made Alfred more willing to voice what he was really feeling.

"I heard them talking. Ol' Jones and one of the school board members. It was about how my 'gift' is that I can only manifest dark magic or some crap like that. My grades keep dropping. I keep hitting people. I can't sit still. I'm a changeling."

"You're still hitting?"

"I try not to, but they keep calling me a freak. They keep flashing scissors in my face and laugh when I freak out. They do stuff with juice like today. All the staff know about me, and more students are believing the rumors. I feel so trapped, Tolys, and there's this _thing_ deep inside me that's telling me I don't belong here. I mean, I like it here, and I wanna stay, but I hate it, too, y'know?"

"Perhaps you could take a few days off."

"I did that last month, remember? They got suspicious. When I came back, I heard kids whispering about how I was off 'swapping my brethren.' No, I've decided I need a longer break. I'm going on that mission."

"The mission? The one with stopping that dark wizard in Volkerburg? That sounds incredibly dangerous. A dark wizard by himself could be ruthless, and then there's the matter of widespread fears. And if you travel to eastern Volkerburg, you'd be terribly close to the demon lands, and the king still hasn't ceased his eternal winter—"

"But it would be so refreshing. Off in a place with no structure. No schedule. No rules! Ol' Jones was explaining it to me. He said maybe I'd have to tell my companions my secret, but the mission might even need someone like me! Who knows? I could be a spy or the team brawn. I feel like if I went on this mission, I'd start feeling good about myself again. Like I have a chance to do something great. To be… a hero. I've always dreamed of being a hero."

"You could be one. You could. But wasn't the mission given to Amelia instead?"

Alfred glared. "It's _my_ mission. I was offered it first. And I'm leaving before dawn. Those other trumpets can learn their high notes without me holding them up."

"This could put you at risk of being expelled."

"Ol' Jones'll protect me. I'll come back after I've vanquished my foe. Besides, if I do get expelled, it could be a weight off my chest. Another era of my life could come to an end. You can see where I'm coming from, right?"

"I just fear for your safety."

"And I crave adventure. Before the rooster even crows tomorrow, I'll be gone. There's a satchel in the study downstairs. It contains letters for me to justify my existence and a transport spell that'll take me to a port on the east coast. Once I get there, I'll hop on a speed ferry to a place called Ama-twall. I got it all planned out, and I'm gonna do it."

"People will notice your disappearance. You still have this semester to finish."

"Alfred F. Jones, the dean's second nephew from out west, has this semester to finish. I'm not him anymore. I'm Alfred the changeling. Alfred the changeling can do whatever the heck he wants, and he's stealing that mission. Alfred the changeling thinks school in the summertime is dumb."

"At least put some ointment on that rash before you leave, and I'll leave some breakfast and cream out for you."

"Aw, you're the best!" Alfred threw his arms around his friend. Tolys gave him a few pats on the back. If he was truly happier this way, perhaps it was healthy for him to go off and seek his fortune elsewhere.

It was terribly dangerous, Tolys supposed later, but as Alfred had so confidently stated would happen, he really did disappear in the morning with the satchel and the breakfast and the cream.

* * *

Alfred sat a little while after lunch contemplating the last time he'd ever seen Tolys. Some of those things he'd said were true. The Mercs of the Messy Hand wouldn't be where they were without their trusty shapeshifter. He'd been both a spy and the team brawn, and the adventure was indeed refreshing to his wild mind and body. A weight was off his chest. He felt like he had purpose even as a creature to be widely feared.

But he'd said something untrue, too, and the mission had helped him realize it. Now that he'd tasted such freedom, the Academy, with its structures and expectations and bullies, was the last place he wanted to spend the conclusion of this grand adventure.

He would not return to the Academy whether he was expelled or not.

Alfred raced to where the other Mercs were still in conversation about how to lift the spell without entering Volkerburg.

"Time to go, guys! Volkerburg, here we come!"

Arthur furrowed his brow. "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"If only you guys could meet Gilbert. He'd show you how helpful he can be."

"Why don't we, then?" Matthew piped up. "If Gilbert is the one who can help us, can't we ask him to come to Amotoile and meet us somewhere? Meet us halfway, maybe?"

"Yes, ask him to come to Lafée," said Ivan.

Alfred didn't reply to this immediately only because his eyes shone like stars and his mouth was wide open. "We can take Feli to Lafée, and Gilbert can meet us there. Somebody get me something to write with. Maybe we'd still have to go into Volkerburg later to find our baddy and get shelter in Gilbert's tower, but this would get the first step outta the way before we run around like chickens with our heads cut off."

"I guess it would also prove whether or not Gilbert is alive as a changeling in Volkerburg," Arthur said. "Just ask him to write back and show up. He'll probably come disguised."

"Oh, that's the funny thing. Gilbert doesn't like disguises. You'll see when you meet him."

This plan, the more they discussed it, was much more acceptable and practical than the first. It was then when Alfred composed a letter and addressed it to "Gilbert at an Old Tower Called Piyo in the Woods in Volkerburg", as that was what he remembered of his mentor's description.

"You're sure he'll reply?" Arthur asked as he read the letter over.

"Of course he will. He told me I could write him if I ever needed help, and he'd send a response with a little yellow bird."

"Well, perhaps he is alive somewhere. I'll send this off to your tower you've dreamed up. If it exists, this should fly right to it."

Arthur folded the letter into an aerodynamic shape. He placed it on a smooth stone and worked some spellwork over it that made it look as if green beams were emanating from it. It began to rise into the air by its own will. It then flew off at an incredible speed away to the east.

* * *

 **~N~**

Dormite/Voi volete dormire- Sleep/You want to sleep


	49. Two Strong Arms and Plans For Us

"If only I could fly," was what Lovino kept saying that evening. "If only I could fly. If only I could fly."

"If only I could _move,"_ Ludwig retorted to this. Though Lovino had been able to heal more of his injuries, his soreness only persisted, and his limbs felt ever heavier as the hours passed by. He absolutely dreaded when the stars would show themselves. The forced reshaping of his body would only exacerbate his pain and tiredness. Couldn't the stars give him a break for one night? He was cold enough as it was without the frigid curse dripping over his form and warping it into a monster.

"If only I could fly, I could search from above. I could see between all the trees. I could find my stupid brother and bring him home. No more of this nonsense with him freezing up whenever he sees a shapeshifting freak. In Allegria, we have no freaks. Only _real_ fairies with beautiful, delicate wings."

Lovino realized what he said, then, and let out a string of curses far too hideous to publish in this account.

"Did you call for him?"

"Of course I called for him! I searched everywhere! I even fought one of the mercenaries who came after me! I thought following him would lead me back to the camp where they're keeping him, but I got even more lost, and I had to find my way back here, and I couldn't even hear him calling back to me."

Ludwig grit his teeth. "They're using that spell on him to their advantage. He'll stay frozen if a changeling is around. He's completely insensible in that state."

"Feliciano!" Lovino cried in a fit of fervor. "Feliciano! Come back here, you idiot! Feliciano, my stupid, pasta-brained, music casting brother! Come back! Let's go home!"

"I just said he can't hear you!" Ludwig snapped. "Quit being so loud, anyway. If we attract any more attention, someone might come and see that I'm hurt, and I don't want to put anyone at risk when the night falls. You should even watch out for yourself. I — _he_ will be crankier than usual."

"You've never killed a man as that beast, have you?"

"Never killed, no, but I've attacked people plenty of times. It was mostly in the early morning when I lose my humanity. But then there have been times when someone angers me, like last night. Alfred looked well when I saw him this morning, but I still feel a bit guilty."

"You saw him again? When?"

"He visited me in the shape of an eagle—"

"And what did he say?"

"He couldn't speak, but he wrote in the sand with his talons. He said they're not going to give your brother back. If we want him, we have to find them and take him for ourselves."

To this, Lovino's face twisted in absolute desperation. He sat and put his head in his hands. His wings hung pitifully behind him. The broken one looked as if it would be permanently duller than the others. It was more greenish-black than olive-brown and produced minimal fairy dust to cover it.

The two of them said nothing for quite a while, each involved in his own pool of frustrating thoughts. How to get him back? How to defeat the mercenaries? How to find the amulet and undo the curse? Mend a broken wing? Explain to Feliciano some tough subjects concerning morals versus needs?

 _And Gilbert still has a lot to explain,_ Ludwig thought. He hoped his brother had received the letter without incident. The appearance of the enormous black eagle still unnerved him. If Alfred admitted he had nothing to do with the encounter, then who or what _was_ that creature, and _why_ did it try stealing the wand?

This led him to another irritating subject. The mercenaries had taken the wand. Not only was it his duty to recover the fairy, but he also had to recover one half of Roma's treasure.

 _Hold on, Feliciano. Just hold on as long as you can._

* * *

The Mercs of the Messy Hand, meanwhile, were engaged in a rather serious conversation regarding how to keep Feliciano from worrying himself into old age before the spell could be broken.

"There could be complications," said Francis. "This could take longer than we think. We can't trap him in a dome every time he gets hungry."

"I don't see why we can't," Arthur replied. "He's got no one to bother him in there. He can't come out, and we can't go in. No one could sneak in and steal him away from us."

"But it's _wrong,"_ Alfred argued.

"How so?"

"Couldn't you see him singing to himself? He was terrified. He's gonna get depressed if we make him feel like a prisoner all the time."

Francis rubbed his short beard. "Counterproductive, but could we put a little spell in him to calm him?"

"No chance," replied Arthur. "The potent enchantment within him attacked both of us when I merely nudged it. Attempting to spell him even more with a different magician's energy could kill him. That's why it's important we remove that spell as quickly as possible."

"And it's _wrong,"_ Alfred argued once again, "because he already thinks I beguiled him, and I'm not going to be responsible for actually doing it. Not me or Arthur or any of us can hurt him. We're the ones trying to save him."

"We could use illusions to make us look like his friends," Ivan suggested.

Arthur shook his head. "I couldn't possibly sustain an illusion for all of us. I swear, it's my weakest subject. I barely passed the illusions section on the exam to get my magician's license. In fact, the only reason why I put just one wound in Alfred that night was because it would look unrealistic if there were more. The blood would look more like paint."

"Oh, yeah, Artie, I've been meaning to ask you about your connection to reanimated corpses. "

"What does that have to do with bloody anything?"

"Just tell me," Alfred said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"I have no connections to animate corpses unless you're talking about the one who can't mind his own damn… nevermind."

"We were talking about zombies the night you gave me a hint. Peter's a zombie, isn't he? A necromancy spell gone wrong? Necromancy involves a blood sacrifice. At least I think it does. I dunno. The trombone section was discussing it one day in band, and I just remembered—"

"I did not reanimate a corpse, and _you're_ the one who brought up zombies, not me. Be serious, shadowborn. A man's sanity is at stake here."

"I have the perfect idea!" Yao exclaimed. All eyes turned to the shortest of them. "Feliciano loves pretty women, doesn't he? Alfred can transform into a woman and seduce him—"

"Uh-uh!" Said changeling erupted so loudly that Arthur had to snap his fingers so Alfred's lips glued themselves together. His blue eyes bulged with frantic opposition.

"You can do it, can't you?" Arthur teased.

Alfred strained his lips and broke through the little snap charm. "No!"

"No, you can't do it, or no, you've never tried?"

"I plead the fifth!"

"If we suppose you _can—"_

"I am _not_ transforming into a girl. Especially if it means I'm gonna have Feli's noodle arms all over me!"

"He's hardly a cassanova," said Yao.

"I'm a _man_ who likes personal space, bro! Feli can kiss a rock with Artie's crappy illusion on it for all I care!"

"Oh, but that would crush him," Francis cooed.

"Even changelings have dignity!"

"You like personal space _and_ hugs?" Matthew teased.

"Those are bro hugs!"

Anyway, with some level of maturity, they deemed the idea a poor one.

"That is beginning of good idea, though," said Ivan. "Maybe not girl, but little fairy's friends? And rest of us could become invisible with magic dust."

Alfred caught onto this idea quicker. "I could be Ludwig," he said. "I'dafta sneak down to the beach again to see 'im, but I could totally pull him off."

"You can't alternate between Ludwig and the dog-man. You're not cursed," Arthur said.

Alfred frowned. "True. I wouldn't be able to change like he does. Maybe I could take the shape of Feliciano's brother? But Lovino isn't the one he sucks up to. Unless we spin some lies… but I don't know too much about his brother. I'dafta study him more if I wanted to be him, and we don't have time."

"Your mimicking talent is excellent, though," said Yao.

"Yeah. I like Luddy's voice. Just deep and throaty and _I fink dis ist de besht beer I haff evuh tashted!"_

"I'd like to see you transform into Ludwig and attempt to down a mug of beer without wincing," Arthur smirked.

Alfred cringed and put a hand to his stomach in distaste. "If beer tasted like cream or coffee, I'd drink a barrel. Lud's body could probably handle a barrel, too. My taste buds would change, of course, but it still tastes nasty."

"Back on task," urged Francis. "So Alfred could become Ludwig, but he wouldn't be able to replicate the curse's effects. And he can mimic him nicely. What if we just make Feliciano _think_ he is traveling with Ludwig?"

"Like how?" Yao asked.

"We blindfold him, and Alfred can mimic Ludwig's voice."

Arthur twisted his face in confusion. "Why a blindfold?"

The gears were already turning in Alfred's deceitful mind. "Luddy rescued Feliciano, but beforehand, he witnessed Arthur putting a little spell on our friend so he can see whatever Feli sees. If Feli's blindfolded, that spell will be useless. Make sense?"

Arthur furrowed his brow. "There are in fact spells that make it possible to see through another's eyes. And with Ludwig's ignorance of magic, it would make sense he'd assume that 'spell' was real and dangerous."

"Then what about the rest of us?" Matthew piped up.

"Arthur, do you know a spell to muffle footsteps?"

"I could certainly find one. And I could make a sound-proof shield or a telepathy link so we could communicate without him hearing our voices. But what if Feliciano tried to touch you? He's clingy, and if he tried to escape, you would have to grab him so as to not cause suspicion, and then he could tell by touch you're not really Ludwig."

"Then maybe I have to take his shape. But since Feliciano will be blindfolded, he won't be able to tell I haven't transformed into the dog-man. I'll just need to groan like I'm in pain and make my bones crack a little and then deepen my voice more. Then I'll tell him not to touch me 'cause I'm still sore from the battle and I'll go all wild."

Arthur seemed to be considering this with interest. "You could mimic the others, too?"

"The spirit definitely. His brother probably. It's just I don't know as much about his personality as I should. I just know he's a bitter guy. Insecure. Coquettish. This is all from listening under the table."

"Listening under what table?" Francis asked.

"Scintillatian expression. It means I followed them unnoticeably yesterday and listened in on their conversations," Alfred lied with perfect coolness.

"There's one more thing," Arthur put forth. "What will we tell him about where we're going?"

"We're going to Lafée, right? Didn't he go there after coming from Allegria anyway? We'll just tell him we're going back to Allegria, and once we get to Lafée, we'll just wait until Gilbert comes, and I'll tell Gilbert I'm really Alfred!"

"If Gilbert still lives," Arthur droned.

"I swear he does!"

"We can't afford to waste time. If one Gilbert is alive and well, he should make himself efficient."

"Most efficient guy I know. Honest."

"There's no such thing as an honest changeling."

The pieces of this plan soon began falling into place, and although there were smaller complications laced within, it would certainly be a way to reduce Feliciano's stress during the journey and allow him to at least believe his friend was near him.

So when the night fell, and Ludwig's pained cries could be heard sighing out into the chill autumn air as his humanity waned, a small unit of Alfred and Yao quietly crept down to the cliff above the beach where their opposition was camped in order to steal some other supplies.

"I'll have to wait until morning when he's changed back," Alfred whispered. "Grab me some of his clothes. I don't need the big black cloak. Oh, and get Feliciano's lute."

"Does he need his lute?"

"Making music calms him down."

"But don't you remember what he can do with that music? He can hurt you. Make you bleed from the ears and scream like you're mad."

Alfred jerked. He shifted in place and tore at a tough scar on the inside of his lip. "You've got a point. He can make the frequency. Well, we can't worry. I'll have a plan for that."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. It's not just me on this mission. I need my trusty sidekicks sometimes."

"So you need clothes and the lute. Anything else?"

"Take anything that'll make me the most accurate imitation and most of his stuff, but it doesn't have to be a lot. Feli can't see, remember."

Yao nodded, and using his quickness and lightness, he jumped down and sneaked around the beach past where the dog-man and the pitiful fairy slept. After undoing his charm on the spirit so Kiku only "slept", Alfred kept watch up above. Yao squatted over next to the others' belongings. He found the lute first and set it aside. He then shifted through Ludwig's bag to take some of the remaining articles of clothing. (It could be assumed he had unfortunately ripped several shirts along his quest.)

A small pile of Feliciano's clothes was also made and folded into the fairy's purse. Yao silently stood and began again across the sand to climb and hand up the items.

"Smooth as expected," Alfred complimented.

"Carry some of this."

Alfred took the lute. He scrutinized the engravings in the sides. The largest was a laurel branch painted with glittering gold.

Something else glittered in his eyes, or rather, flashed. A terribly loud squeal escaped his lips when he saw a sharp pair of scissors in Yao's hand. The human forced his hand over Alfred's mouth as they both looked down onto the beach. The dog-man shifted slightly.

"These were with his things. He will feel safer with them."

"Don't scare me like that."

"Press on your wrist."

A low growl came from the beast. The mercenaries nodded to each other and quickly did away with themselves. During this time, Feliciano had been allowed more time to himself, and when Alfred saw him in a heap sobbing with his wings looking much duller and heavier than normal, he knew they had come to the right plan of action.

It was all a matter of not being seen the next morning when Alfred went to the same cliff accompanied by Yao and Arthur for backup. One by one, the stars faded, and when the gray sky of morning dominated the tiny lights, the dog-man changed. He whined and bit at the air and shuddered, and when he was once again human, he collapsed and held his face in his hands.

"I just realized something," Alfred whispered.

"Hm?" Arthur turned.

"He told me he knew his brother's a changeling."

"Did he?"

"Yeah. He sounded surprised that I knew. It's just… I realized that's why he let me escape in the city. Or at least try to escape. He knew what the incense does to people. Maybe it's because his brother had to deal with it, and he didn't want me to share the same fate."

"Just because the dark wizard is a changeling doesn't make him or Ludwig your friend, remember. And sympathy isn't why we're here. Just take Ludwig's shape so we can leave. Can you see him from here?"

"Yeah. Just shut up, okay? I'm already on it."

The two others looked to where Alfred's trance-like gaze was fixed on the pitiful human. His muscles filled with warm tingling as they swelled, and there was a sharp tug as the bones in his rounded face pulled themselves into defined angles.

"How do I look?" He asked once he'd completely grown into Ludwig. He clutched his throat, admiring the deepness of his voice.

"You're the spitting image," Arthur remarked with a frown of astonishment plastered across his face.

"I feel really strong. Wonder how much I can bench." The new Ludwig ran his fingers over the dense bulges in his arms and chest. He then broke out into an Alfredish grin that looked utterly frightening under his sharp, steely eyes.

"So that's why he never smiles," Arthur said quietly.

"What? I'm not the one with crooked teeth, here, lighty."

"We'll tell you later. Let's just get back and finally leave this lake. He may not have the dog-man's hearing anymore, but if he hears that voice and sees you, he'll fight through that pain and chase you over the edge of the world."

"Silly Arts. The world's round, y'know."

"Cut the slang. It sounds too strange in that voice."

"Right, right. I shall speak in a formal and educated manner. Diligence. Efficiency. Punctuality. Bratwurst."

The moment of truth came when after another sumptuous breakfast and some alone time for the fairy, Alfred tore some cloth from one of his shirts for believability and tied it around Feliciano's eyes. He then shoved him down into the ground and made several noises like a great fight was taking place. Indeed, he mimicked Arthur's voice, and Yao's, and Ivan's, and his true tenor, then back to Ludwig's, and in Ludwig's he breathed heavily as if he were pained while the other voices faded out.

"Feliciano," he breathed. "Feliciano. Wake up. They're gone. It's me, Ludwig."

Feliciano lifted his head from where he lay. He trembled as if not sure how to react. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

"I'm here, Feliciano."

The changeling took the fairy's hand and held it to his cheek. Feli rubbed his fingers along the rough blond sideburns down to his strong chin. He reached out with both to feel the firmness of his shoulders, and upon realizing this was the friend he'd missed so dearly, those noodly arms were clamped around him in what Alfred would consider much too tight for even a bro hug. He fidgeted in the grip, but Feliciano's intimacy persisted as he poured out his emotions.

"Doggie! Oh, Doggie, you rescued me! It was so scary! They wouldn't let me out of the bubble, and they didn't have any Allegrian wine!"

"Shh, be quiet, now. I didn't rescue you yet. They're still behind us. I ran as far as I could. Don't! Don't take that blindfold off!"

"Why? Why am I blindfolded?"

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. W-what happened?"

Alfred screwed up his face for dramatic effect. "You were insensible when it happened. I forgot. That fool Alfred held you while the wingless fairy cast a spell on your eyes. He can see whatever you see. If you take the blindfold off, it could reveal our location. I'm guessing it's temporary, but we ought not to go back to them now. I managed to punch that magician's lights out before carrying you out of there."

Behind the exchange, Arthur wrinkled his nose.

Feliciano hugged his knees to his chest. "So I can't see anything?"

"Not until we know they can't see us. I will guide you until then."

"Oh, Doggie, what happened? Did they attack? Why was I kidnapped?"

"A long story. Yes, they attacked us. Alfred attacked me, and I had to fight him as the dog-man. My humanity was long gone by the time I came to my senses, and by that time, you were gone."

"Lovino is okay, isn't he? And Kiku? I would've helped you if not for this spell in my head. I would've played and sung my song so he would go away. He didn't attack you badly, did he?'

"My injuries are still many. Your brother is not a very good healer."

Then, in the voice of Lovino, _"I healed you perfectly well enough."_

"Lovi! Are you okay? Did the demon try to hurt you?"

 _"Don't bring up the damn demon, and I'm fine. I just had to bust out of magic confinement."_

Feliciano shook his head. "You shouldn't have to be in pain, Doggie. I'll heal you. Can I have my lute?'

Alfred looked to Yao and mouthed _see?_ He handed the instrument over to Feliciano. The fairy took comfort in feeling the carved wood in his hands. He slung the strap over and placed his fingers on the strings.

He wasn't damaged, but Alfred still felt as if the song was healing him. Those last few scratches pinched as they sealed up, and a feeling of comfort and happiness spread in his chest like bubbling water. Looking to his companions, he noticed their moods were improving as well. Even Arthur produced the lick of a smile, though now that Alfred had pointed it out, he couldn't notice anything on Arthur except those crooked bottom teeth. He'd long since grown used to the horrific excuses for eyebrows.

He didn't want it to end. There was a special kind of joy infused with Feliciano's countertenor that restored both his natural giddiness and his strength. A little frown of disappointment marked itself on Alfred's stoic face when the music stopped. He put a hand to his chest to see if it was really pulsing.

"Do you feel better?"

"Yeah, er, _ja,_ a lot better. Your voice is beautiful."

Feli smiled despite the blindfold. The phantom Lovino _hmmphed._

"We should hurry. We need to get on the route to Lafée. You went there from Allegria, right?"

 _"Sì._ That's a good idea. But I really can't take this off?"

"Not until we're far enough away. Let's at least wait until we've reached Lafée."

In the voice of Kiku, _"I will volunteer to act as your eyes, though I will not be able to describe things with such beauty that the living admire them for."_

"That's okay, Kiku. I'd love for you to describe things for me. I'll just be our musician as always." His face twisted into a frown, however. "Are you sure that's the only spell you saw him put on me? There aren't any more?"

"No," Alfred replied. "I was spying on them in order to find the perfect moment to steal you away. Only this spell was put on you to prevent them from losing you if you escaped. They play too dirty."

"Just adding to the spell already in my mind. At least now if I can't see a changeling, maybe I won't freeze up."

"We can't be sure of that. Perhaps that spell works if you hear a changeling's voice as well. No matter. We're apart from them, and now we must move forward as we did before. I realized they took the wand and managed to steal it back for you."

"And my clip?" Feliciano asked. "They took my clip. The laurel branch hair clip."

Alfred held out his hand toward the others. The clip was produced. He took it and fastened it in the fairy's auburn hair where it usually sat.

"And here are your scissors," he said before squeezing his eyes shut and gesturing. Yao brought forth the pair and handed it to the fairy. A smart move, he thought, for lessening suspicion.

Arthur was able to create a shield that prevented the two walking in front from hearing anything from those walking in back. It was all up to Alfred's cunning now. They left the lake area to continue onto the road. Choosing to travel to Allegria from Lafée could work to lose Ludwig for a long time. But anything was possible.

After all, Feliciano had just committed to trusting his terror.


	50. Gilbert's Great Fate Mistake

If anything could lift him into higher spirits, it was finally being able to relax.

Gilbert's legs were almost completely numb. He couldn't even tell he was gripping anymore, but the terrain had become familiar a few hours ago when it became mysteriously rocky. That signified he was close to Basch's castle, and he'd expertly skirted around it. Now he was ever closer to his own wizard's hideout.

A delighted smirk crossed his face when he saw the tower rising into view amid the enormous trees. He guided the flummoxed mare through the maze of them, as there was no path leading to Piyo Fortress, (why have a path when one can fly?) And when at last he could stand on wobbly legs gazing up at its domineering majesty, he let loose a rasping laugh of victory from his hideous, unawesome human form.

" _It is so much easier to fly!"_ He laughed. " _But I have made it! I have made it home, and I intend to rest and forget everything about this horrible body and this play acting for at least a few days!"_

On his shoulder, Gilbird chirped like a little henchman. He grinned at it, still with those sharper teeth. Even a spark of red flashed in his violet eyes. It was good to be home.

However, when he opened the doors to the great tower, he was not greeted so kindly. The floor was made of wild fowl, the furniture was covered in finches, the cracks in walls were crowded with doves and pigeons and squabs, and the window sills were filled with wide-eyed owls who turned their heads almost around to see him enter. And of course, seeing that the visitor was not the wizard who cared for them, the birds leapt from their perches and flew right at him, claws and beaks ready for attack.

Gilbert ducked. He held up a hand signalling for them all to cease. " _It's me!"_ He cried in his true voice. " _Get off me, birdbrains! Migrate already! You can't remember I'm a shapeshifter!? At least you know to attack a man who looks like this, but I'm not him! Gilbird! Talk some sense into them!"_

Gilbird, being the most intelligent thanks to a little dark enchantment, raised its tiny cheeping voice and helped its master to calm the masses. The birds were ushered back outside where they belonged, and Gilbert grumbled as he was finally allowed to enter his own home.

" _I need to figure out a way to keep them out. They feel as if they need to guard this place when I'm away. It's not a roost! It's a lair! I am the bird wizard, but the birds can stay outside!"_

His mood took a steeper dive when he witnessed the carnage left behind by his feathered companions. Feathers littered every corner of all three floors of the tower, and _on_ those three floors, making it very hard to walk around, was a sticky layer of—

" _Scheiße! Look at this mess! I can't believe it!"_ Gilbert kicked at the wall so hard he stubbed his big toe through the boot. He swore and swore at the mess. Untidiness was _not_ professional in a proper wizarding household, especially if its wizard plotted to become the most fearsome in Volkerburg.

" _At least I can get rid of the shit,"_ he sighed, maneuvering through the white stains to his potion shelves. He picked through old chests and drawers until he found some small cubes of what looked like chalk. He ground them with a pestle into a fine magenta powder. He then stood in the center of the room and threw the powder up in the air.

It spread and spread like smoke all around the first floor and up the stairs to the upper floors. When it settled on mess, it erupted into little pink flames which burned away at anything undesirable. After a few minutes of this, Gilbert made sure the windows were fully open so the scent of primroses could dissipate. Now the tower was simply full of feathers, but he could sweep those later.

Instead of continuing to worry, he visited his chicken coop, full of the only birds that really belonged to him as pets. He counted to make sure there were still six hens and one rooster. Gilbert was especially relieved to see a small white hen, affectionately named Henriette, come hobbling out of the coop to peck at his boots. He reached down to pet her fluffy feathers and held out a hand full of seed.

" _It's good I left enough out for you. I came home at the right time. I was worried since I usually have Ludwig to guard you at night."_ He spread a bag of seed over the ground for the chickens and collected eggs from their roosts. Chickens, apart from his little yellow henchman, were his favorite birds. They were docile and loyal and ever so fun to watch totter around.

" _Now listen,"_ he told Henriette as she clucked and pecked at the seed in the dirt, " _soon there will be another chicken joining you. His name is Roderich, and he will be a very good chicken. Or a very bad one. Either way, he will be a chicken, not a human. I'm going to melt away his human mind and replace it with a simple chicken's. Or should I leave it intact so he understands his fate and suffers? There are so many possibilities. It's a good thing I'm creative._

" _Now really, if I bring home a little brunet bantam, I want you to make him feel welcome. Make him know that he is loved as a fluffy fowl, and he was never loved by anyone when he was a murderous man. Make him know that his feathers and fat are a mercy after what he's done to those tortured fairy souls. I could've turned him into a spider to be a little snack for you. Do you understand,_ mein kleines Vögelchen?"

Henriette clucked in what Gilbert's creative mind took to be affirmation, though she had no idea what he was talking about.

" _Good,"_ he smiled. He then popped the eggs in his mouth to relieve the aching hunger from traveling all day. He smirked with slimy white dribbling down his chin. Ludwig had learned to look the other way when his brother did such things. Gilbert assured him he really was as hungry as he professed, and it wasn't as if he complained if the eggs were raw. Everything tasted better when he was hungry.

He couldn't ease the torture that was being Edelstein, but at least he could make himself comfortable. From the coop, Gilbert went to the little shed that was his bathhouse. He slipped off his coat and shirt and heaved logs that were dry enough under the stove. This was enough to break him into a sweat. Usually his brother did such things.

But Gilbert persisted in stoking a fire under the stove to warm small tubs of water before straining his stringy muscles to dump them into the tub. There was a certain legend about how the wizard Frederick, Gilbert's predecessor, had stolen the frog-footed, porcelain tub from a wealthy family and brought it to the fortress as a trophy, but he'd long forgotten exactly how it went, and Gilbert only frowned when wondering what had happened to Fritz. One night the old changeling simply vanished. The young Gilbert could only assume he was murdered by humans.

With the water warm and inviting, Gilbert slipped off the rest of his clothes and climbed into the tub's embrace. Magical stones glittered on the ceiling to bathe the bathhouse in a multitude of colors. The wooden walls were Darkland cedar and gave off a savory aroma with the steam. He reached over and grabbed a bottle of potion that created luminous pink bubbles in the bath. They worked to flood the water in a vibrant pink that obscured what he didn't want to see.

" _Ahhh, not indoor plumbing with a slice of cake at hand, but who doesn't love a rustic feel on his old bones?"_ He remarked as he slid his shoulders down into the suds. His tired muscles rejoiced in the warmth. He could feel the grease and muck washing away from his hair and skin. Even an ugly and useless body felt better when clean. Gilbert slipped just a bit deeper so his toes peeked out at the other end of the tub.

He pursed his lips, and his throat clenched. He breathed out the throaty, purring coo of a dove. It echoed in the space around him and melded with the lapping water to make him feel truly safe and at home. For at least this moment, he needn't worry about his vengeful crusades or the mercenaries or the unknown fate of Fritz. He could even forget that he wore the guise of his nemesis. He was simply Gilbert. In a tub. In the woods. With pink bubbles. And oh, he was so warm and relaxed!

He cooed for a while as the comfort moved him, and later on, when the water had cooled off, he climbed out and pulled the plug to let it drain into a hole beneath the bathhouse. It was then when he became at least a little anxious. Before he put on his black and blue robe, he looked once again at the red shadows of flame painting his pale abdomen. Stretch marks striped the edges where he'd swollen into a "healthy" human form. It was a scar that wouldn't shift with him. A reminder of the horrors he'd experienced throughout his life, which in human terms was short.

But he couldn't let this little glance down ruin his chance of relaxing. Gilbert stepped out into the cold air under the stars and trudged back to the tower. Somewhere, Ludwig was over seven feet tall and covered head to tail in fluffy light brown fur. _Doggie._ It pained and amused him at the same time.

When Gilbert reached the second floor, where his bed was, he continued up the spiral staircase to the third, where his brother slept. It was a lofty area with many bookshelves and a writing desk. Here and there were little trinkets and objects Ludwig found in town or out in the woods. Mostly "useful" things, but Ludwig also had an interesting fascination with uniquely-shaped sticks. One wall had once boasted a full-length antique musket before Gilbert chastised his brother for owning something even partially made of iron, much less a pointy bayonet.

He looked at the newest painting hanging just above the fireplace of Ludwig. It was done two years ago — Lud would've been but seventeen. He was smiling proudly and holding the rooster in his lap. Gilbert adored that rare smirk of his brother's. He'd inherited it from the one who raised him. Ludwig knew the rooster in his lap was his brother. That was why it sat still long enough for the painter to properly describe in color.

All at once, Gilbert felt that chronic pang of loneliness that always welled up when his brother was away. Perhaps a few days was too much solitude. He had to be responsible. Ludwig was in trouble, and just because one of the mercenaries was a changeling didn't make him his friend.

So Gilbert climbed under the covers of his own bed clean and fresh and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

" _Gilbird,"_ he whined groggily. He looked up to see any sign of the yellow menace trying to claw him awake, but nothing showed itself. Instead, Gilbert felt something come to rest on his chest. He poked it and found it to be a curiously folded letter.

" _Probably from Lud,"_ he yawned as he slipped out of bed. He trudged over to the window where the stars were still sparkling above and unfolded the message. Gilbert was instantly confused. This outrageous scrawl was _not_ the neat and tiny letters of his brother's hand. He squinted to even make out the _Dear Gilbert_ written at the top.

Gilbert forced himself awake to read this curious message. He mumbled as he scanned. " _Alfred… mission… mercenaries… dark wizard… dog-man… Feliciano… spell on his mind… come meet us…"_

In fact, Gilbert most certainly wasn't awake after reading the letter because he fetched a candle to read it a second time, and then a third and a fourth, and only then was he aware enough of the world to drop the letter in fright as his heart froze over.

" _This isn't true. No. It can't be. He's not the one that wrote this. I know it. But… it sounds so like him. No, no, no, he can't be. He can't be!"_

And Gilbert began frantically pacing around the room sputtering out more incomprehensible phrases like this until the owls hooting outside ceased in favor of listening to the wizard's late-night plotting.

He looked at the letter again, regarding it as a wicked thing. An evil spirit's trick perhaps. Or could it be debris blown in from another world? Addressed to a different Gilbert? Or was this a dream? No, he had read it four times over. The words would've shifted and the message skewed.

" _It can't be… him."_

* * *

"You disappoint me. Do you even know what you are?"

"I'm a… changeling," the latter replied with uncertainty in his voice.

"You don't even know what that word means."

"I'm a fairy," he insisted, "but I'm an evil one. People don't like me." Now sadness clung to his words, and he stared at the floor.

They were lying in the loft of an empty and dilapidated barn, the place where the boy called home. The old straw made a decent bedding, though it was scratchy over Gilbert's sensitive skin, and he needed to spread out his robe like a blanket to lie on. The boy didn't seem to mind. The straw made imprints on his back when he sat up, and the most he noticed them was when he reached back to scratch at the deeper marks.

In his true form, he had looked miserable. Scrawny even for a changeling with skin stretched so tightly around his fragile frame that his hands looked like chicken claws and his bulging blue eyes were the only signs of life about him. The star-shaped birthmark on the bridge of his nose only made him look more pathetic. One superstitious enough would call it a _special_ mark. A mark of _fate_ _._ Gilbert saw it as nature's rude trick. This kid was fated to die in the woods where the shadows had shaped him. He'd admitted he was abandoned.

However, he looked much better now. Gilbert calmed the roiling demons of his own past and respected that this kid had cheated Death. He was seven, though in human years, perhaps fifteen. A healthy build, but not too muscular, and with hair turned gold from the agonizingly hot sun of this strange land's summer. His eyes were still deep and spirited to Gilbert. Pools of wonder that quivered in the presence of hope.

"Am I s'posed to be a monster like the fairies said?" The boy interrupted his thoughts. The question was so sincere it hurt him. It was pure and silly nonsense, as if the boy needed instructions on how to breathe, but he asked with a genuine ignorance.

"There are many monsters in this world," Gilbert replied. "I'm even a monster. But that's because I have chosen to be one. If you think you're a monster, then be a monster."

"But I don't understand what I'm _s'posed_ to do. To be a changeling, I mean."

"Well, you do what you have to if you want to survive. You eat, and you find someone to love you, and you have to lie to do these things, but that's why you were born with the power to transform."

"But I _did_ transform to do those things, and everyone hated me when they found out. My brother… he was so angry. You don't know how my brother looked at me when he saw me transform. There was this fear in his eyes. An' this sadness. An' I'm not sure if I'm s'posed to lie if—"

"Kid!" Gilbert shrieked. "I'm going to ask you a very serious question. Do you want to die?"

"No. But I don't wanna kill anyone either."

"You don't have to kill anyone! Why would you say that!? _Mein Gott, Kind!_ Listen to me, now! Every being in this world has a purpose. A niche in the fabric of nature. Humans are dumb animals who grow up and have children and die. Call them the control group of Earth's grand experiment. Fairies of light are clever creatures who possess magic and can change the world around them. They're the traitors who left the woods long ago to become modern like humans.

"Then there are demons — evil, horned creatures that skulk over the earth acting selfish and destructive. Next to them are spirits and half-spirits who live among the living unseen. Then there are beings that look like humans but aren't. Homoalces and Homoequus and those types of things.

"And you and I — we are the fairies of darkness. Changelings. Shadowborns. The Fairer Folk. In my country, _die_ _Schmetterdämonen._ I know. A mouthful. Our niche is that we don't have one. We are intelligent creatures who are meant to take the forms of others and fill out those purposes. We steal away the poor creatures and take their place. Does that make sense?"

"So I really have to steal someone away and pretend to be him?"

"It's traditional, but no, you don't have to. I never did. I simply wear my robe, and people think I'm human. That's how _I_ steal away someone's purpose. True, I feel sick much more often, but I prefer being a fairy."

"Were you abandoned as a baby, too?"

"I was found and mentored for a while, then kicked out to live on my own. But I'm smart like you are. I figured things out over time. Our kind has stolen people for centuries, and the mistrust is carved so deep into the hearts of men that we must be smart to live among them."

"Because they hate us?"

He sighed. "You can say they hate us, or you can say they're afraid of us. Being a fearsome creature is something to be proud of. The other creatures think highly enough of you to admit they're powerless against you."

"I don't want people to be afraid of me."

"Then use your powers and show them someone they won't be afraid of. Someone like that human you just became earlier today. Be him. Or someone else. You have something inside you that other beings find hard to come by. It's called _freedom._ You can choose to be anything in the world whether evil or good."

"But what if people find out I'm not really what I say I am?"

"Then change and find different people."

The boy rolled over and groaned. His nose wrinkled. He wiped away the beginnings of tears, and his voice caught in his throat. It was different for him, Gilbert realized. He'd had a family, and he'd experienced love and care before brutal reality had been thrust upon him. True, he'd had the knack to hide himself, but it was always easy to forget that one was a fairy of darkness. One small slip, and the string of a relationship could be cut with very sharp scissors.

"Are you afraid?" He asked, softening his tone. He needn't speak so harshly to the boy. He was shaken. Gilbert was reminded of Ludwig the night he'd been cursed.

"Yeah. I'm really afraid."

"I was, too, when I was young. I was afraid of dying. But I realized I was gifted with the very tools to evade a cruel fate. I had magic, wit, and awesomeness."

"But I was still thrown out of Dinsmoor. I miss my brother so much. I'd give anything to hug him again. He always smelled like maple syrup."

"Let me tell you something. Your brother is not worth it. They're all not worth it. You didn't even take one of their children, did you?"

"No."

"Then they're damn fools, and they should be ashamed. They should shudder in their sleep with shame and the fear of what you may become. Now, it must hurt you, but with the lot of fate you've drawn, you never know how long you'll stick around, so you have to move on and make something of your life. I helped you with the first step today. Now humans won't see what you are, and you have clothes."

"Can you help me more?"

"What else do you need?"

"Teach me to be a fairy of darkness. Teach me to use magic and be awesome. Can't you show me how you did it? You're pretty old, right?" His eyes filled with a tiny shimmering confidence budding from the wake of his tears.

With the look this kid was giving him, Gilbert just couldn't bring himself to say no. He was adorable, and as Fritz had once said, a changeling should always help his brethren in need.

"You're cute, kid. Trust me, though, I'm not as old as I look. In human years, I'm still a spry youth. I'll teach you what I know. Some little tricks to help you navigate until you find where you feel you belong. But in return, you need to help me find a flower called the Slipper of Selene. It grows around here, doesn't it? Northern Scintillatia?"

"The Slipper of Selene? I've never heard of it, but hey, we're in the northernmost state of Scintillatia!"

"Is that why it's so damn hot?"

"I just came south from the Northern Wilds, but I think, yeah. It's summer."

"I hate to think what winter is like."

"I got here in the middle of winter. It snows in March, and it's freezing. I lived in a basement for a while. There was a furnace down there to keep me warm."

"This place sounds like hell."

"Well, the 'Iron Range' is scary, but we're south of that, so we're safe. An' we got pretty lakes! There've gotta be like, ten thousan' of 'em! I can't swim very well, but when I was a Homoalces, I could really swim."

Gilbert laughed. "See? Life is wonderful, and your magic is nothing to be ashamed of. My favorite form to take is a huge black eagle with red eyes."

"An eagle!? Wow! I love being an eagle, too! Except a bald eagle! They're everywhere around here. I'llafta show you one! And I'llafta show you the lakes!"

"In the morning, then, I will teach you to be awesome. I will teach you to be a fairy of darkness."

"Thanks. Y'know, you're not a monster, Gilbert."

"Oh, but I am. From now on, you will call me Herr Schmetterdämon."

Gilbert proved his wickedness in the days that followed. The boy, who was called Alfred, had attained a basic awareness of the wild world and how to survive in the wilderness, but when faced with real people, he instantly retreated into a state of caution and ignorance.

"That boy in the stable. I want you to use that charm on him."

"But what if I can't do it? Plus, he has those _things."_

"They're called scissors. They scare you because they're made of iron. _Iron._ That scary magic metal that burns you. Your mind will play tricks, but iron is completely harmless unless you touch it with your bare skin. Now go. If you need to swap with someone, this charm is excellent for getting him out of the way."

Then Gilbert watched as the boy reluctantly sauntered over to the stable boy, (who was taller than him,) attempted to use the charm, and was given a look of pure confusion. He tried again and again, and when the boy pulled out his scissors to see if that was the matter, Alfred shrieked and cowered, prompting the boy to whack him on the shoulder with the blades and kick him out of the stable. He fled back to Gilbert whimpering and clutching the burn.

"You have to be quick about it!" Gilbert scolded.

"I don't know how to use the charm!"

"It's so simple! You just will your power into the other person and say ' _sleep!'"_

"How the heck do I 'will my power!?'"

They did it again, this time on a nearby farm. Alfred was tasked with charming a young child into sleep. ("So simple. We do it all the time!") Alfred's flaw was that he stiffened in anxiety when he walked over to the little girl petting her horse. Then the horse bent down to munch on its oats, and the dust from the oats forced him into a violent sneezing fit. The little girl, of course, was surprised to see a stranger appearing next to her and acting so weirdly, so she called for her older sister, and more burns and bruises were added.

"Pathetic!" Gilbert chastised again. "You'll never fit in at this rate!"

"Do I _need_ to know this charm?"

"It's not even about knowing the charm. It's about being ready for any situation. Humans will be wary of your idiosyncrasies. Fairies even moreso."

"But Herr Cheddar-demon!"

" _Schmetterdämon!"_

"You're mean!"

"You're ugly!"

Furious at this insult, Alfred tried again and again to use the charm. Again and again he was burned and bruised and chastised until he thought Gilbert quite wicked indeed for forcing him into these torturous situations.

In Gilbert's eyes, he made little progress. His mind was functioning properly in that he picked up the behaviors of the humans around him, but he still couldn't look natural enough to appear inconspicuous. His odd behaviors burst out when he felt uncomfortable, (the habit of twittering especially,) forcing the humans to see that he was not one of their own. That and even teaching Alfred simple charms was difficult when he could barely understand how his magic worked. His energy had become idle in the six years he'd spent as a Homoalces. It was rusty, and it had never been used for anything except his instinctive transforming.

"You show me again," Alfred insisted one afternoon. His face was covered in dirt from tripping and falling after running away from a man wielding a fire poker. "Show me how to do the charm again."

Even after Gilbert showed him again, he couldn't understand.

Yet Gilbert had a clever mind as well, and he soon picked up patterns in the boy's behavior. In the attempts when he'd been almost successful, food was involved. The boy had a voracious appetite to sustain such incredible energy within. He loved meat and sweet things, even successfully managing to steal rhubarb pastries from a certain bakery several times in his new human form.

Gilbert turned that appetite into a challenge. "Steal something from that bakery. But this time, you have to use your lies _and_ your magic. Think of it this way. If you can use your force of will to charm that baker woman into sleep, you can have as many treats as you want."

"I'll do it!" Alfred exclaimed, stars erupting in his deep blue eyes.

Gilbert pulled up his hood and watched the boy enter the little shop. The baker woman, who had learned not to trust this troublesome teenager around her goods, put on a stern expression when she saw him. She grabbed her broom and was about to shoo him out when he put on yet another act. Surely it was another story about how he was poor, for he pulled out his pockets and frowned with his round little face in such a way as to be endearing to anyone.

Still, she didn't buy it this time, so he increased his intensity. Alfred began coughing. He clutched at his throat. His knees wobbled and buckled beneath him. His body shuddered in the feigned attack. His eyes became wet and his balance off. Gilbert quietly praised him. That quick thinking was perfect for a changeling in a bind.

Concerned, the baker bent down to help him up, and it was then, for the first time, that Alfred thrust his hand to her forehead, uttered a simple word, and was faced with the woman asleep in his arms. He raised his eyebrows, absolutely dumbstruck. He looked to Gilbert for affirmation of reality, but Gilbert was well-hidden in a bush with leaves sticking to his greasy white hair. He only returned Alfred's confusion with an almost-sinister smirk.

He did end up helping the boy to revive her before taking him by the hand and leading him out and back to the barn. Alfred's cheeks and pockets were stuffed with stolen goodies made with rhubarb and blueberries and apples.

"See? Was that really so hard?"

"No!" He returned with a victorious grin. "It was really easy just like you said! I just imagined I was going to _make_ her sleep, and I felt something really hot shifting in my chest, and it flowed to my palm, and I thought about the treats, and… I did _magic,_ Gilbert!"

"Magic, yes, but little magic. That is the first charm you must learn in order to not make a fool of yourself when swapping. If, of course, you find yourself needing to swap. And now that you understand how it works, you have to train yourself to use it in the most difficult of situations. You must be ready in the blink of an eye. It will become your reflex."

"So if someone has scissors, I just put 'im to sleep?"

"Exactly. It's saved my life more than once. But we can begin in on that tomorrow. Enjoy your sweet treats for now."

Alfred soon enjoyed his treats more often because once he had mastered that charm, Gilbert taught him others. He gained a knack for the natural flow of his magic, and the more he understood it, the faster he could learn. Fairy charms were first, and then Gilbert taught him a few mind-meddling spells for assisting his fabrications if needed. These were a bit more difficult to teach since Gilbert discovered the boy was not gifted with music as he was.

Alfred came to know many non-magical skills as well, such as fine-tuning his transformed senses and quickening his improvisational abilities. He learned to stifle his anxiety around people and act so fluidly that he could appear to have never been a changeling at all. People were _pawns,_ Gilbert instructed, and not predators. If they didn't suspect anything, they were simply harmless underlings.

He learned how to embrace his niche, too. Gilbert taught him about signs and symbols to use when speaking. Sunny weather meant it was safe to talk about what he was. Stormy weather was dangerous. A fellow's eyes were deep and wise. Cream was the (second) most delicious thing in the world. If something smelled bad, it was probably poisonous.

But all this was still not without difficulty. Alfred never gained any burns so bad as to be unchangeable scars, but he was burned and beaten often, especially once the towns they visited gained an awareness of his presence. Gilbert took the boy under his wing and built up a sense of discipline. He took a fragile shell and molded a strong persistence and hardened diligence within. He took Alfred's stubbornness and made him ever more stubborn. He took his will and turned it to steel.

"Life is difficult for us. I never said it's always wonderful. If you want it to be wonderful, you have to learn to be fearsome and not fearful. They hurt you because they're afraid of you. Know that and _own_ that as a badge of honor. Then you will learn to defend yourself."

"Right. Don't be scared."

The message became the boy's aspiration, for he _was_ scared, and Gilbert was sure Alfred would always be a little scared when scissors and nails were in his line of sight. Even Gilbert was afraid of those things, and people who wielded them made him irrationally nervous.

But he couldn't see into the boy's future. He couldn't know what Alfred would make of his new skills and mindset. Perhaps he would find a family to settle into after all, as that was what he was used to. Or perhaps he would be forever a drifter who only mooched off people from time to time. Or perhaps he would even create a new identity for himself as Gilbert had to strike fear into the hearts of men before they could even judge him.

He worried for the boy's future as he did for all dark creatures at risk of others' cruelty. But he was confident as well. Maybe that little bluish star on Alfred's nose was some kind of mark of fate, though Gilbert didn't believe in such things.

It was the night before Gilbert left with the Slipper of Selene ready to make the long journey home when Alfred turned to him in the barn loft and smiled like he'd never seen him smile before. The rounded face of his human form had grown handsome over the summer in a dorky sort of way. His eyes had brightened into a galaxy of stardust. No longer was this child wasting away with fear and sorrow tearing him apart. Now he was filled to the brim with optimism. His very being surged with it. His confidence burned with conviction when he spoke.

"Herr Cheddar-demon?"

He groaned. "Just call me Gilbert."

"Gilbert, I know what I'm going to do with my freedom."

"And what is that?"

"It may not be today, and it may not be for a while, but I'm gonna make someone not afraid of me. An' you know how I'm gonna do that?"

Gilbert raised his eyebrows at the little ball of energy he'd created.

"I'm gonna save someone. I'm gonna be a hero, and the person I save is gonna know what I am. That's how I'll prove myself to the world. It's a dream, and a pipe dream at that, but who knows? Maybe one day, I'll be completely fearless. If I keep believing in myself, I can be a hero. Yeah. A hero. A changeling hero. I like the sound of that."

"Changeling hero," Gilbert scoffed. "Shoot for the stars, kid."

* * *

He'd scoffed. He'd _scoffed._ Gilbert, with heart pounding, picked up the letter and read it again. This was definitely not good.

" _He really thinks of himself as a hero, doesn't he? He wasn't kidding! But why? Why? Why is_ he _the changeling mercenary Ludwig talked about? And he just had to have the brilliant idea of dragging 'my old mentor, Gilbert' into this! I mean, I'm flattered that he would think of me. But what am I supposed to do? Of course I know who put that spell on Feliciano. Me! And of course I know what it's making Feliciano think. He agreed to give Ludwig his inheritance and have no qualms about it! But what am I supposed to tell Alfred when he sees me? I was going to call off his entire mission!_

" _But if I appear as Edelstein and call off his mission, he won't relent. No, he has no use for a reward, and he won't care if the mission is off. He'll want to know who put that spell on Feliciano and see it through to the end. He's stubborn like that._ I _made him stubborn and persistent like that! He'll just brush off Edelstein and wait for Gilbert to come around, and if I don't, he'll come to Volkerburg looking for me and get himself killed! And it's not like I can help him like he wants me to! I really am a dark wizard! I need to steal that amulet, and I can't take that spell off Feli until he's found it!_

" _And why did you have to kidnap him, Alfred? Oh, Lud, I'm so sorry wherever you are. I'm so sorry I haven't told you. Perhaps if you knew about Alfred… oh, that wouldn't make any difference. Then Alfred would just be angry at me, and if he finds out… Who am I kidding. He was seven when I found him. What is he, four, five, thirteen now? He'll be so much smarter. Of course he'll find out about me. Of course he'll think I really am a monster, but I warned him, didn't I? I warned him about this! I told him people are pawns! Oh, what am I supposed to do!?"_

For the rest of the night, he didn't sleep. Instead, he paced around and rambled on and on while memories of the little changeling boy plagued him like bugs flying around his head. Birds gathered on the windowsill to watch the wizard's madness. Gilbird tried to comfort him, but he shooed it away. Gilbert couldn't even relax in Piyo Fortress without remembering Piyo Fortress was a symbol of his identity as the dark wizard Gilbert — an identity Alfred didn't know he had.

When the sun rose, Gilbert couldn't take it anymore. His reunion with Alfred was inevitable. After all, Feliciano was with him, and Feliciano was the one he needed for his plans.

" _I'll have to hold him off somehow. Maybe if Ludwig was there with me, we could steal Feli back and usher him and Ludwig on to Allegria. But how when the mercenaries will be there? I'll still need to be Edelstein if I'm going to win Feli's trust. And calling off the mission still isn't out of the question unless Alfred's fellow mercenaries are just as adamant as he is about saving Feliciano. They probably will be what with what Edelstein's mission has put them through."_

Conflicted in his thoughts, he once again packed up with his flute handy, left out enough seed for the chickens to gorge themselves for weeks if needed, and mounted the great black mare. While he rode, he hastily wrote a letter to Ludwig telling him that he would explain everything if he would just come to Lafée.

With no plan yet in mind, he wasn't ready to reply to Alfred's letter. The young changeling would just have to trust that his old mentor had heard his prayers, though he didn't intend to answer them as he wished.

" _I should've told him to stay on the ground."_


	51. Reform Behaviours

Feliciano could not see how often his companion stared at his back with a disturbingly giddy smile on his face, but he answered the questions when they came, and there were many.

"How fast can you fly?" Ludwig asked at one point. Feliciano could hear the human's heavy footfalls behind his lighter ones and feel the warm, meaty hand on his shoulder to guide him. He fancied that his other senses were growing sharper lately. In the few instances he'd peeked under his blindfold to see Ludwig's face, the other had quickly scolded him for being careless.

He lifted his wings and fluttered them a little, causing Ludwig to let go. "I'm super speedy in the air. The wind rushes in my face when I really get going. But I don't fly fast too often. Especially not lately since I'm on the ground with you."

"Can you ever soar without flapping?"

"Without flapping? No, my wings aren't built like that. They're too light, and they don't fold out horizontally like a bird's wings — just out at angles, see? But that's why my back is so strong. I can flap them really fast like this."

Feliciano demonstrated by jumping up and whizzing. His wings sliced through the air with a _whoosh_ and caused a tiny wind to blow around him. He shot up in the air, then slowed his wingbeats and floated back down to earth. He held his arms out to balance and kicked as he descended, as he couldn't see exactly where the earth was.

"I shouldn't fly when I can't see. Where are you, Doggie?"

"I'm here," Ludwig said and placed his hand on Feli's shoulder again.

"Whenever I'm with Doggie, I feel like good things will happen!"

"That seems rather groundless."

"Well, at least he can get off the ground!" Lovino forced.

"Do not be discouraged," Kiku told him. "You must persist in your endeavors."

"That's right," Feliciano agreed. "You'll fly again, Lovi. I just know it. You'll wish for that, won't you, Doggie? You'll wish that Lovino's wing is mended. Or, you know, you can wish for whatever you want."

"Shouldn't I be the one to wish for my wing back?" Lovino scoffed.

"I agree. It's Lovino's wish."

"But it's your amulet," Feliciano sang back. "I agreed to give it to you out of the goodness of my heart, and you're glad to have it even if you don't want to express it."

Of course! That was it! Doggie wanted the amulet terribly. Feliciano knew this as the truth. It was clear as day in his mind that he was never meant to inherit Roma's _sogno._ The amulet was meant for Doggie all along. Doggie was simply being modest, but he was respecting the agreement. No, Feliciano couldn't entirely remember the agreement being made back in the forest so many weeks ago. But that was because it was so far in the past. Such memories were trivial when he knew they were true.

"On another subject," Ludwig said somewhat irked, "is it true that you're born with wings?"

"That's not a new subject," Lovino bit.

"No, it's not," his brother laughed. "Doggie, you've been asking a lot of questions about my wings over the past few days! Do you want some of your own? You could wish for them!"

"Well, they have always fascinated me. The way you can lift yourself off the ground and fly through the air."

"Stupid human."

"In the spirit realm, I have met a few spirits who appear to be men with wings."

The blind one grinned. "Like spirit fairies!"

"Yes, but these were the spirits of humans who grew wings."

"I'm not looking to die soon," Ludwig said with a hint of nervousness.

"Oh, no, don't say things like that, Kiku! Doggie can't die! If he wants wings, he can wish for them."

"My apologies."

Sounding a bit more irked than before, Ludwig repeated: "So is it true that you were born with your wings?"

Feliciano chortled. "Of course I was. When fairies are born, our wings are wet and fragile like butterflies'. And they're clear, too. It takes about a week for them to dry and harden, and then they start making fairy dust, and that's what gives them their color. When I was born, Grandpa said my crying sounded like singing, and everyone who heard it became really happy and started crying tears of joy. Even Lovino did."

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did! Can you believe it, Doggie? Once, Lovino was _smiling!_ So Grandpa called me _Feliciano_ because it means I'm happy. He was happy, too, because of my gift."

Lovino growled at this. Feliciano slumped a bit.

"Lovino, you have more magic than I do," Ludwig scolded.

The older fairy only grunted.

Seeing that Doggie was on his side, Feliciano weakly continued. "Grandpa was born with his gift by chance. Even when he was young, it was really strange to see someone grow up as a music caster, since there are fewer and fewer of them with wings. Our family is really one of the last… and I'm the only one in my family, now."

"Then it's a gift you have to cherish."

" _Sì!_ I love singing so much! And playing my lute, and keeping time, and _dancing!_ Back in Allegria, people say all the time how I dance really well. Grandpa said when I sang and danced at the same time, I even had magic in my feet! Isn't that weird?"

"That does seem odd," remarked Kiku. "Though I am no one to judge how odd anything is in your realm. I can barely understand my own existence."

"You're funny, Kiku," Feliciano laughed.

"I would not see it."

When Feliciano professed he was getting sleepy, and it was confirmed for him that the sun was getting low in the sky, they came to rest under a great oak near the town where Lovino had first seen Ludwig transform, though on the other side of it this time. Feliciano refused to leave Ludwig's side, even if his unfortunate limitation hindered his ability to protect his friend if necessary.

It was Lovino, who flourished in comfort, and Kiku, who volunteered himself to protect the older fairy, who ventured into town, leaving the two friends alone.

"Hey, Doggie, can I have my lute?"

"What for?"

"I was thinking I could sing a little. I should sing more. It really makes me feel good since a lot has been happening lately. I can't feel what you feel when I sing, but I can feel what I feel, and it really relaxes me."

"Then of course you should sing," said his friend. The instrument was passed to him, but he had to wait a minute before he could even hum to tune.

"The stars," Ludwig muttered. "No, don't touch me! Ugggh, it hurts!"

Feliciano winced when he heard the sounds of bones cracking and flesh squirming. Ludwig moaned with pain. It seemed the curse had been hurting him even more after the battle with the changeling. Such anguish persisted even after Feliciano had healed his injuries. The fairy frowned, a sense of failure gnawing at his heart.

His friend huffed out heavy breaths when the changes ceased. There were a few extra grunts of discomfort, but he still insisted the fairy not assess him for any new wounds.

"I'm fine," he told him in his deeper snarl. "I'm just very tired. Let me sleep now. And you should go to sleep yourself."

"Doggie, I want to sing for you. I want you to feel better. You're hurting even more."

"It's only as painful as it always has been."

But Feli's voice turned even more fretful. "No, it sounds worse. You never cry out so loud like that, and I _know_ how much it hurts you even when you don't cry out. This curse is doing terrible things to you. Please let me help."

"I suppose you could sing a little song."

"Two. I'll sing two."

"Two will suffice."

Feliciano quickly hummed and tuned, then immediately started to sing his song for comfort. He poured concern and compassion into the song. It was an excellent selection, for as he sang, his own stress evaporated and faded away as mist in the morning. He himself had been stressing too much lately. The wicked mercenaries had really terrified him. Part of the reason he stayed with Doggie was so the dog-man could protect him if anyone tried to take him, though part of him shuddered at the fact that Doggie hadn't been able to protect him before.

His heart hardened when thinking of the one who distracted Doggie that night. _Alfred._ Feliciano didn't think he was even capable of these feelings welling up inside him. They were shadowy and smokey and clouded his heart. He… did not like Alfred. Not one bit.

And Arthur. Terrible Arthur who enchanted Feli's eyes to see whatever he saw. Why were things like this allowed? They simply shouldn't have been! And yet they were! Alfred was a wicked creature, and Arthur was proving himself to be so, and the demon who shattered Lovino's wing and the hoofed creature who kicked Doggie and the knight who lied…

 _They are all liars. You will never listen to them,_ a voice in his mind whispered eerily. For a moment he tensed, wondering if he'd told those things to himself or whether they'd come on their own. But he settled himself quickly. To question something as obvious as the mercenaries' dishonesty was ridiculous.

 _Comfort,_ he thought to himself. _Peace, comfort, sleep. Firelight, moonlight, candlelight, starlight. All is well. I am happy. I am safe._

His voice swelled, and he knew it to be true.

* * *

"Ludwig" pointed to his ears and made a slashing motion against his throat.

Arthur nodded. He then sliced a hole in his sound-bending bubble and rushed to his companion's aid. Fumbling with his magic as swiftly as he could, he formed a different kind of bubble around Alfred. This one would repel magical energy. They gave each other curt nods before waiting out the threat.

Feliciano sang his song, then — the song to keep changelings away. Now that he heard it, Arthur could instantly recognize the energy winding up and down the arpeggios. Feliciano hummed with his lute, and from his throat spurted a constant wave of pure light frequency. Arthur could hear this energy. It was a very high ringing pitch — just barely audible, but as tangible as the wind.

When it was over, Arthur removed the bubble, and his dark fairy acquaintance gave him a thumbs-up.

It wasn't too long after when Feliciano realized how tired his "friend" really was, and being very worn out himself, he went to sleep right then and there. His soft little sighs breathed out into the night air like wingbeats.

"Good we sent everyone on ahead," Alfred whispered, his deep voice startling Arthur for a moment.

"Hush, now."

"I'm fairly certain he wouldn't wake up even if I committed the most incredibly hysterical antic— _"_

"Let's be careful now. I thought I saw him shift."

"He's told me about his sleeping habits back in Allegria. I think we're safe."

"Well, in that case, allow me to critique you. You should stop making your 'transformation' into a dramatic performance."

"I'm not being dramatic. He really does moan like that. I'm just mimicking what he does. It's Feli who thinks it's worse than normal."

After saying this, Alfred scrutinized his hands. One had greatly reduced in size and become very pale and withered and clawed. He looked at his other — the thick, brawny fingers and broad nails. The pale hand swelled and popped. Bones grew, and sinews stretched, and veins reshaped and shifted into new positions. He squeezed it as a mirror to the other. He shrugged his wide shoulders, and a few sickening _cracks_ sounded from under his skin.

Arthur grimaced. "I still cannot believe a word you say when you tell me that doesn't hurt."

"I don't know what to tell you. It doesn't hurt at all."

"That sounded as if your bones were snapping in half."

" _Ja,_ some of them were. Fun, gross stuff. I mean, sometimes it pinches a little, but it's not painful. Not when I'm using my powers, anyway. If I just grabbed a finger and bent it 'til it snapped, then I _would_ scream. You know what is painful right now, though?"

He couldn't answer his own question because his stomach did for him. The gurgling was so loud he had to look back to make sure Feli was still asleep.

"Hungry? Me too. We've got food from Francis' little run earlier, but you have to share."

" _Jajajajaja_. Just lemme have it."

"Isn't your guise a bit more respectful?"

"I request nourishment, Herr Magier."

"Milord will do. I do think you've done a remarkable job with this charade so far. You've got him truly fooled."

"Thanks. It's exhausting being three people. My throat's really sore from switching between voices. That's not even a magical power. I'm just squeezing my throat and diaphragm in different ways. At least I have no trouble with this hilarious accent. Sk… skwoo…"

"If you're trying to say _squirrel,_ don't hurt yourself. Now, I've got this for you, and—"

Before he could even finish his sentence, the not-Ludwig had snatched the entire baguette from his hands and was ripping into it like a starved animal. His flat teeth jutted downward into points. His eyes were wild. Steely blue yet glittering in deep excitement.

"I learned something. This body really likes bread. It's never tasted so good to me before. I want more of it. I want it to be denser."

"You can rave about it once you've swallowed," Arthur scolded.

He watched the hulking man swallow and stare back at him expectantly.

"I've taken my share, so just help yourself. It's all in here. Anything to keep you from dining on garlic-flavored fairy."

"I don't… eat… people," he enunciated very seriously. The steely eyes narrowed, and the angled jaw clenched. His great muscles twitched in annoyance.

"A-all right," Arthur squeaked. His heart thudded so loudly he was sure the other could hear it.

But then the dangerous glare of his companion broke and melted into that Alfredish grin.

"That's worse. Don't do that."

"I'm just smiling."

"Your face is all wrong. It's as if you're wearing a mask made of flesh, and I can still see your true face beneath it."

"Aw, that's creepy cool. But it's my real face." He pinched his cheeks and exacerbated the expression.

"I can _see_ you grinning behind Feliciano. If he peeks under that blindfold one more time, and you're wearing that monstrous expression, he's bound to be suspicious immediately."

"You underestimate me."

"You let Ludwig figure you out in the city. I know how well you can lie, but when pressured, you get nervous and lose your head. Feli's got scissors on his belt. Don't make him even question that you are the real Doggie."

 _"Ja."_

"Stop growing claws in your sleep."

"I can't _help_ it."

Not wishing to start any arguments that may end up waking the fairy, Arthur ignored him. "Now, we don't have anything to drink I'm afraid. I'll have to fix that. It was in the other bag."

Arthur painted a very clear image in his mind, reconstructing the exact location and object. He focused as he weaved a spell to beckon it through space and time. A tug on the fabric of reality already stretched so delicately thin. His fingers curled ever so slightly and twitched under the pressure of the releasing magic.

 _Pop!_ A glass bottle found its way into existence in his lap. He picked it up and passed it over to his companion.

"What's this?"

"It's milk. Don't act like you've never seen it before."

 _"Ja,_ but… you created it. That's crazy!"

"I know what it looks like, and I know where it is. I didn't create it. I _summoned_ it. Now, in theory, you can _change_ anything into anything else. It's called Alchemy, and it's a very complicated and messy form of dark magic that I spent too many hours toiling over for exams back in University. (The history, of course, not the application.)

"But _creation,_ as you're thinking of it, is impossible. Physics, you know. But I suppose even Ivan can break those. And you can change your entire bloody anatomy using unstable magic that should've killed you ages ago yet you can control as naturally as I control mine, and you tell me it _doesn't bloody hurt_ for your cells to rapidly—"

"Is this whole cream?" Alfred asked, completely ignoring Arthur's scientific struggles and twisting off the cap of the milk bottle. He threw the lip into his mouth and gulped down half the bottle before Arthur told him to stop.

"I said _share,_ shadowborn. _"_

"It's creamy, though. I like cream."

Arthur shivered. He took the bottle from a very disappointed-looking Ludwig-whose-face-looked-disappointed-like-Alfred's. He wiped off the lip of the bottle the best he could before taking a sip himself. It _was_ cold and creamy. But the creamy part itself stuck in his mind and pried open memories from deep in the past.

* * *

The woman was crying. The hair falling into her face was soaked with the salt of her tears. She clasped her arms around the other woman — the one with the outrageously thick eyebrows — and sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder. The second woman said nothing. There was nothing to say.

The second woman's two sons Allistor and Arthur were still trying to finish breakfast at the moment. Gareth had gone off to his music lesson earlier that morning, leaving the eldest Kirkland boy with the challenge of trying to make his three year-old brother eat without incident. Even so young, the child was strangely powerful, and to Allistor, who at this point in time was the Lord Kirkland of eight, Arthur's magical hiccups were a sign of a disappointing future.

Arthur put another spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth while he watched the lady cry. He'd never seen her like this before. She usually came from the city with scones in the mornings. Of course, the scones weren't nearly as good as his mummy's, but he ate them out of respect. That was the virtue of a gentleman, and Arthur was told by everyone he would be a fine gentleman once he grew up. ("Though all three of you will end up with our family's eyebrows. I can see it," his mother had teased her sons.)

"I look at little bitty Arthur," the woman wailed, "and I'm so afraid they'll take him, too! He's the same age! So young! They took my son, Guin! They _took_ him!"

Arthur's mother did not offer words. There was nothing to say. Hope was not to be had.

In the days that followed, the woman's family visited while she took a time of solace in the manor. All of the children came except for the youngest boy. Arthur pouted about his absence. He liked playing with that boy and making up stories and talking about magic. Arthur had already learned his first spells, though he didn't know what he was doing and usually broke something.

He would sneak into the woman's room and ask about her youngest, and she would only begin to cry again, prompting Arthur's own mother to give him a stern look and send him out to let her rest.

He could hear the boy's siblings talking through the walls and soon came to know that he had been taken away by _them._ Even after hearing the stories in his books, he never believed they existed. They were fantasy like the fairy towns hidden in the forest and the people who could walk on the wind without wings.

But he learned they were real now, and they were _infesting_ homes like the lady's in great, terrifying waves, and they'd taken his little friend. Arthur became frightened. He took scissors and placed them on his windowsill. He helped his brothers make a magical barrier around the manor. He helped his mother crush herbs and set them in jars by the front door. He set out bowls of cream as offerings.

People were tense when he went into the city. Tense as the mysteriously sunny weather that frightened all who questioned its presence. Glass was shattered in places where riots had taken place. Phosphorescent potions from broken flasks slithered over the ground, mixing with the dirt and grime. Men and women shot each other glares and fingered iron charms around their necks. The littlest children were cuddled close in their parents' arms.

 _Down with dark magic_ whispered through the despairing countryside. _Down with those who praise it. They know not what terrors it spreads. It must feed the shadows. It must bring_ them _closer to taking our beloved children. Magicians must conspire with_ them. _Potioneers must take_ their _example. Down with dark magic and those who wield it. If creatures will use it for evil, why should anyone use it?  
_

When Arthur turned five and saw the queen for the first time in his life, she was not smiling. Instead, her lips were tight, and her eyes were sad. She was not beautiful this way, trapped among guards and Councilmen who despite being as modern as everyone else, still clung to superstition and carried shears instead of guns.

He held tightly the hands of his big brothers as they walked through the square, pushing through the crowds of people.

"Restructuring our educational curriculum... redefining what magicks are socially acceptable… for the protection of the fair folk… we shall refer to ourselves only as fairies of light… to finally and completely separate ourselves from our savage cousins of the woodlands… all who practice these without a federal permit and under strict supervision, until our glorious country is free from this dark menace, shall be prosecuted… former offenders, though they may have reformed, shall still be dubbed as suspicious… "

"What does it mean?" Arthur questioned.

Such a tiny voice went unheard in such a large crowd full of families of victims and advocates. Men, women, children, and the changeling children among them; and those who were poor; and those who were educated; and those who couldn't think for themselves; and those who wanted to look more important; and those who pretended to know everything about the issue yet were just as ignorant as the untaken; and those who felt it appropriate to bring up ridiculously unrelated issues and how they affected them; and all those who came to put an end to the changeling crisis by gracing the issuing of the ban with their glorious presence and unneeded speeches.

(There was a resistance, too, but logic was crushed by sympathy.)

Arthur couldn't understand a word of the verbose proclamation and all of its articles and minutiae. He was but five, and the unnecessarily intricate horrors of politics eluded him; however, slipping in one tiny, pointy ear and out the other were in fact the words that in seventeen years' time would seal his fate.

* * *

But Arthur had been focusing his attention on the memory of the cream.

"It's all true," he whispered in wonder.

"Huh?"

"When I was a child, we left bowls of cream out at night after sunny days, and _someone_ took them. The cream was all gone in the morning."

"Aw, that's a nice thing to do."

"It was an offering. We thought it would deter _them — you — things —_ from taking us away. I don't know if it really helped, but… the cream was always gone in the morning. Always. And… we had a barrier around Kirkland Manor and never had any trouble. Those stories are true, aren't they? Why don't you like the holly or cranberries?"

"I'm allergic. The juice gives me a nasty rash. Luckily, I've never tried to eat one."

"Just a simple allergy? They don't make you melt or anything? Fascinating!"

"Melt? Dude, I'm a changeling, not a boggart. You're mixing up your dark creatures."

Arthur came out of his daze and looked at the humored face of the great man again. Come to think of it, hadn't he played with that lady's son soon before she'd come crying that he'd been taken? And how long had that child not been hers…?

"Earth to Arts? Artie? Artiekins? Artiepithecus? Aardvark? Milord? _Milord?"_

"Er, yes, you can have the rest of the milk. I'm going to take a walk for a bit to stretch my legs after sitting for so long."

"'Kay. Don't get eaten. Your blood's a great source of sodium."

"You said your kind doesn't eat people."

 _"I_ don't eat people," he said with a smile.

* * *

 _Blood._ Yet another memory, and a painful one at that.

Arthur was in temporary confinement now. Just the previous night, he'd discovered his secret had escaped his grasp. Just that morning, the guards had burst into his home, seized him, and trashed his study and library. Just that afternoon, he'd attended the preliminary hearing, and he'd answered affirmatively that the crime had been his own doing.

Nightfall had come, and he couldn't sleep.

At least it wasn't a cell, he thought. Despite the usage of dark magic being considered one of the greatest crimes on the Isle, it wasn't cause for that amount of protection. Arthur had a metal suppressor on both wrists and a larger one around his neck. He couldn't use his magic, and the place was guarded heavily. His room was in a ground-level flat hugged close by the dismal walls of the court complex. Arthur knew it had seen countless people like him. Experimenters, nonconformists, traditionalists… all brought to their knees by the law. But he was different. He was a _nobleman._ He was _somebody._

His heart quickened when he considered perhaps _somebodies_ were even more likely to be utterly ripped to shreds by a minor act of misconduct.

Arthur shivered knowing he was kilometers from his own comfortable bed. He would've cried out in despair of what they were doing to all his books and writings, safeguard or no safeguard, but the suppressor on his neck prevented him from speaking. His hands trembled under the covers. His eyes remained open and staring at the wall. Emotions of different colors and altitudes would surface and be forced under by others. He forced himself not to panic. A gentleman never gave in to defeat. He would not let himself be defeated! He was Lord Kirkland, dammit!

A knock on the door jolted him out of his madness. Knowing he couldn't reply with a snarky remark, he feverishly slipped out of bed and opened it. He fixed his emerald gaze fiercely on the midnight visitor. Something inside had expected it to be one of his brothers. But this was relaxed when he saw it was only Alice — the Councilwoman who had led him around all day. She forced herself past him and into the small room, shutting the door behind her. She then took out a key from her pocket and removed the brace around his throat.

"I'm not technically allowed to do that, but you're such a poor fool," she chided.

Arthur rubbed his neck, feeling along the deep impressions in his skin left behind by the cold metal. He hoped it wouldn't leave pressure scars. Maybe when this was all behind him, he could finally invest in a unicorn foal to cheer him up… No, _this_ would never be behind him. And unicorns only befriended the innocent.

His heart cracked a little when he remembered that fact.

"The results of the blood test are back," she continued, apparently insensitive to his discomfort.

"What blood test?"

"We briefed you on this earlier. When you were six, you gave a blood sample to the Court Vault for safe keeping. We used it to determine the magic signature of the spell. It's a match."

"You already used my magical pulse earlier. Why use blood to be gratuitous?"

"Sometimes blood can change. And magic can change, too," she growled, eyeing him suspiciously. Arthur held his ground. "But you have nothing to worry about. You're the real Kirkland, and that spell belongs to you."

"Jolly good time you could confirm it. I thought you imbeciles would have had the clue this morning since it's so goddamn obvious the spell is my doing, but _no,_ magic and blood tests."

"I would watch your tongue tomorrow night."

"And what is then? You'll realize the bloody sky is blue? Or that the dark fae are evil? Or that cow pats stink in the sun?"

"I can tell you right now, Mr. Kirkland, that you will not be so willing to share what is obvious during the trial. Especially in front of so many people who know you."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Alice had pulled out two clear flasks and gave them to him. His eyes widened with anger.

"The bluish one is a truth potion. You are to drink a spoonful every four hours between now and midnight tomorrow. That is when the trial will begin. If you don't, you'll have to drink it all at once, and it's far from pleasant."

"A midnight trial? Those are for the worst criminals! They used to decide what kind of animal you became during those! And speaking of animals, _why_ are you making me drink this? This is illegal!"

"We didn't take all your precious dark magic away. A federally-monitored potion-making process for a specific purpose performed by a specially-licensed potioneer is acceptable. Wouldn't you know that?"

"I like to pretend I don't, since I never got the memo one _could_ become a federally-monitored, specially-licensed potioneer."

"You enrolled in Yaits with the intention of becoming a licensed general magician. That you did, and with flying colors to boot. Secondly, you were unqualified for a special-interest program because of your already-present criminal record, I believe involving theft of illegal potion-making equipment."

"It was in the shop. Tell me again how it could have been illegal equipment."

"It was in the back room of the shop, Arthur. And no, you may not have _used_ the equipment when you were sixteen, but your theft of it made you a suspicious character. In fact, it is believed you were only accepted into Yaits because of your recommendation letters and it being your mother's alma mater."

"That's not true," he fumed. "You have no right to talk to me that way, woman. I got into Yaits because of my _talent._ I was considered as fairly as anyone else!"

She huffed humorously. "Well, everyone can see your talent now. You're in the newspaper already."

"Oh, am I?"

"Yes. You're from Gavinshire, aren't you? The famously agreeable Kirklands? Gavinshire's seen your face in print by now. Probably stained their thumbs on your eyebrows. And we're requesting witnesses to the trial tomorrow night as well. People who know you best and those whom you've come into contact with. I spoke with two brothers who matriculated with you at Yaits. Kyle and Sean were their names. Lovely fellows. They use interesting magic on their hair."

"Yes, I know whom you're talking about. Kyle and Sean. They were good acquaintances of mine. I can only imagine the insight they might have about their dear classmate's follies."

"I'm looking forward to it. The other Councilmen haven't seen a dark spell like this one in years. Frankly, I'm not even sure they know what to think of it, or what to think of _you_ for casting it. It's old and creative dark magic you've used. The Council Magicians are trying to deconstruct a sample so they can wrap their heads around it."

"Ah, so they're intimidated by my genius."

She snorted. "Hardly. You're not the only one who's used that spell in the past decade, though the only one to use it here on the Isle. No, no, what's impressive is how well you managed to conceal it. The only people who've stated they knew are your four brothers. Not even your mother or step-father."

He raised his ridiculous eyebrows. "It wasn't difficult to hide at all… until it…"

"But that was your doing, wasn't it?"

He said nothing.

"Wasn't it? I've read the reports. We both know how that spell works. You caused your own downfall, Mr. Kirkland."

Eye contact broke.

"That other flask. Take a look at it for me."

He came out of his embarrassed stupor and held up the other flask. The liquid within was of a deep reddish-amber hue.

"What is this? An obedience potion? Or will it give me a beak?"

The last comment made only made her laugh. "It's brandy. I smuggled it for you. You need to relax, and the truth potion will make you feel like shite."

"Er… thank you."

* * *

Arthur winced when remembering how she'd been right. Even a spoonful of the bluish liquid foamed in his throat and made his stomach twist until he was shaking. That and he could feel his control slipping away from him. His tongue became slippery, and his thinking quickened, and when he resisted the urge to say the innermost truth, a throbbing migraine overtook him.

By the trial, the flask was empty, and he was captive to the potion's effects. Any resistance was short-lived. A question would arouse the correct answer in his mind, and before he could consider an alternative, it slipped out between his lips as the cold, factual stab to his dignity.

The trial was something he didn't want to think about at this time of night. He'd already had too many revisits to that midnight in his dreams. He almost knew the trial by heart. It was ingrained in his memory as deeply as he remembered his graduation or the excitement of his first client as a magician. The same client who… now went elsewhere for material spells.

He hadn't realized how long he'd been walking when he returned to where Alfred now lay asleep. The great man must have been dreaming. His fingertips twitched. Beside him, Feliciano slumbered peacefully with the blindfold still humorously wrapped around his eyes. Feli was too gullible, Arthur decided. Not even a mite skeptical of the whole situation. A situation on top of a situation. When that spell was finally broken, perhaps Feliciano's very heart would break, too. But it had to be done. That magic within him was dangerous.

A bigger question, he wondered, was how Ludwig became cursed. Could Ludwig perhaps be beguiled, too? How could he possibly know his brother was a changeling and still trust him? How long had that curse been seeping through his body? What level of study did the caster have?

As he pondered, he soon came to realize how tired he was, and as he was supposed to make sure nothing went wrong between the winged one and the changeling, he took his place as the third among them.

The beguiled, the rejected, and the nevermore respected.


	52. Alternate and Counterfeit

For once, Lovino was silent, and Kiku was unwilling to offer any solace.

The sharp sound of a short sword stabbing into the bark of a tree made the fairy jolt, even when it was accompanied by Ludwig's frightening voice ranting on and on. Ludwig clenched his fist around the handle and wrenched it out from where it was wedged before stabbing it in again. Sap leaked from the wounds. As an adept with botanical magic, the sight of the tree made the fairy cringe as if in pain himself.

But he and the spirit waited out the rage that had consumed the recently-reverted human. Ludwig had not requested Lovino to heal the reopened and persisting wounds, and Lovino gladly stayed out of his way. There was a limit to how much Lovino would defend himself. Despite appearances, the blond was still an angry beast he did not want to provoke.

After about ten minutes of this, as was usual ever since they'd started this wild chase, Ludwig's temper showed signs of cooling, and he responsibly stowed away his weapon. He sat on a stump by himself to think for a while. It was then when Lovino was able to summon his courage once again.

"Do you want to be healed, mundane?"

Disapproving eyes snapped up. "Your healing spells hurt," the beast seethed.

Lovino was about to protest, but perhaps the mundane needed a short rest period before fighting through more pain. His curse had been afflicting him even more lately. The drastic changes in shape and size worked evils on his still-healing body. The shortening days never gave his weaker human form enough time to recover before it was warped again.

When he transformed, he cried through clenched teeth until his jaw pressed forward and they sharpened. When he reverted, his animal brain made him whimper until he was lying completely human in a humiliated heap. Then he would take the time to collect himself before either running to defuse his anger or taking it out on an innocent tree.

"Your side is bleeding," Kiku remarked, "and your shoulder has opened again."

"I have scars from the demon's claws. These will close, too."

"I can close them faster, so they won't scar," Lovino muttered.

"Your talent is lacking!"

In a rare moment of emotion, Kiku shot a warning look to the fairy.

"You can never heal them completely!" Ludwig continued. "They just rip open again when I transform! You heal a bird, but you can't heal me!"

 _But it's only your side and shoulder that really look bad, now! When I started, you could barely move! And you objected to my spells on the bigger wounds, anyway!_ Lovino argued mentally. He stepped back, wings twitching under his cloak. Olivine eyes narrowed in defense. Stupid, greedy human. The man should've been grateful he had a fairy in the first place.

But Lovino's arguments were cut short by those formidable blue eyes. He shouldn't have been afraid. Humans weren't dangerous! They had no magic and were much more vulnerable than fairies. Lovino shouldn't have been afraid of Ludwig, whom he knew was somewhat agreeable and trustworthy. Feliciano had told him so, after all.

Yet the green-winged fairy found himself faltering under that icy gaze. There was something naturally commanding about the human's angled face that gave him the advantage of intimidation. That and the man was easily twice as thick around in the chest as him.

"How did you get so strong?" Lovino found himself asking out of pure whim. The words had just slipped out without purpose.

"I trained," Ludwig snapped back. "I thought my transformation would hurt less if I were already stronger. I was wrong, of course. _He_ only grew stronger, too, and when I grew taller, _he_ grew taller. That amulet… now is the time when I need it. I want to destroy this curse and the man who created it."

"All is not lost," said Kiku.

Lovino agreed. "I need to find my brother. You may want that amulet, and so do I, but Felice is the only one who can find it apparently, and he's my little brother in the first place. It's my responsibility to see him safe. He's a coward, and he won't rescue his own ass, especially if he's got some spell in his brain from a dirty _imp."_

Ludwig's jaw clenched after hearing that last word. He made direct eye contact with Lovino and glared unceasingly while Lovino's inner war raged between fight and flight, er, running away. Luckily, words did not accompany the silent attack, but perhaps this meant Ludwig was saving his energy for later.

Kiku broke the tension by offering his encouragement. "We must persist. I would like to see that man again. I do not understand, but I know he has something to do with my strange visions even if we have never met before. Both times I regained my strength, he was present. This story has not ended, Doggie-san. Fairy-ciano is waiting for you, and the wand as well."

"We can just follow the trail," Lovino added. "We've been following the dust trail, and it's looked fresher lately."

" _Ja,"_ Ludwig said. Then he stood up. "I'm going to run for a while. Occupy yourselves productively. Clean up camp, and practice your healing. Though… now I could use a heat spell."

Cautiously, Lovino obliged and applied the spell to his companion. Ludwig showed his gratitude only curtly before taking what the other two had learned was a very healthy choice for ridding the man of his newfound morning frustration.

* * *

A memory came to him as he wiped his brow from the unnatural heat, though it was only a flicker of color and sensation. He was lying on the floor somewhere — his bedroom back in Piyo Fortress. He'd turned into the monster again. _Again? A second night?_ Someone was leaning over him. It was a pale, hollow face streaked with tears. Bony hands were tightly clutching his shoulders.

He could hear Gilbert's panicked voice, but he couldn't reply. He was in too much shock. His swollen muscles seared from the strain. Energy his body wasn't built to handle continued to seep through his bones, tweaking and finalizing the new shape. That animal instinct was surfacing again — the same instinct that made him want to tear Basch apart. It was then when he and his brother realized his curse was cyclical and not a single-night affliction.

Then he saw another memory. It was autumn of the same year. Gilbert was sitting across from him on the first floor of the tower. His brother looked haggard and weak, but he was grinning. A flask was pushed toward Ludwig. The contents frothed pink with bits of white sparkling around the edges. He drank, and almost instantly, he could feel something evil within him become subdued. His body felt lighter than before, almost as if there were two of him, and one had become a misty shadow.

When the stars appeared that night, and his body cracked and warped into the monster, the result left him with only a sense of tiredness. He was warm in his fur and ready for a long night's slumber. There was no lasting pain. No extra magic leaking and overwhelming his feeble humanness. Even the instinct was leashed, though it was much too easy to provoke.

He'd accepted it at the time. He'd accepted that he was cursed, and that nothing else could be done for the moment. Gilbert only reinforced it. The dark wizard started to grow softer and softer. He forsook raids on villages to stay home with his brother. He started running the longer errands for the both of them. Gilbert searched for beer and sausage and bread — the finest food for his beloved afflicted.

 _But maybe he wasn't as soft as I thought… Maybe he never became soft at all. He's hiding something. Something big. And he won't write back. Who am I to not know anything about it? I'm the one he raised. I'm the one he took care of. I'm the one who guarded him._

That was a memory he still couldn't get over. The night Gilbert made him go outside to scare away the trespassers. As Gilbert had predicted, the monster's existence soon morphed into rumors in town. " _The dark wizard Gilbert has bent a vicious monster to his will. An intelligent, speaking dog-man transformed from a human."_

When Gilbert, who thought he was becoming obsolete in the eyes of the rural folk, heard these, he capitalized on them to save his dwindling reputation. He made the "dog-man" guard the tower, and Ludwig obliged if it meant not being at risk of hurting his brother. The old bath house was turned into an outdoor bedroom for the dog-man, and the shed was made the bath house. Ludwig's bed on the third floor of the tower was soon used only in the winter months.

There were mishaps, of course. While Gilbert indeed regained his former notoriety, it seemed this new tactic worked a little too well. Bravely stupid people came more often to get a glimpse of the dog-man rather than the dark wizard's face. Gilbert decided to use fireworks to display his awesomeness and terribleness for them. The dog-man found them much too loud and barked up at the tower, scraping his claws into the stones. It was humiliating as ever, and it only attracted more attention.

The dog-man attacked people. The dog-man scared the surrounding villages. The dog-man was the dark wizard's personal guardian, at one time feared even more than the black eagle. And the dog-man was the little orphan who was loved by those who feared him.

What a twisted fate. From then on, Ludwig felt twice as split with so many alternate identities stretching his name. He visited his friends — during the day — and when sunset came, he forced himself back to Piyo Fortress. He never spent enough time to settle things. Never enough time to meet anyone special. He'd even been apathetic when a girl wandered into the tower during the day and called him _"rather_ _handsome for the dog-man"_ before Gilbert wiped her mind.

He'd hoped for change, yes. He'd hoped something extraordinary would happen and that his curse would be behind him. And that extraordinary chance had come, but... but for five years, he _accepted_ it. _Accepted_ it when he was Ludwig the orphan, Ludwig the swap-child, Ludwig the dog-man, Ludwig the liar. Never wondering if there was a real way to undo the curse or know anything but pieces of himself… just _accepting_ straightforward thought…

He froze in his furious tracks on a path that wasn't there.

"Roma was right," he whispered. "I never made any effort at all, and I have no idea who I'm supposed to be."

A chilling raindrop landed at his feet. He looked up wildly. Anything to distract him from the revelation demanded his attention. The sky was darker than before, and the wind was picking up. More raindrops stabbed his enchanted skin like needles. The green flames began to go out, leaving him subject to the frigid cold.

Madly, he dashed back into the trees for shelter. Where was this place? He recognized that tree. At least he'd been somewhat observant. But this one had lost its leaves and provided no shade from the rain.

The rain broke fully. A blanket of gray washed through the skeletal forest. His boots slipped in new mud as he ran in what he thought was the direction of the others. His bangs fell into his eyes. He clutched a hand to his injured right shoulder. If only he'd asked Lovino to heal it! It would've been painful, but he wouldn't be stressing his wounds now.

And the rain… no, no, no. The trail of fairy dust… the rain would wash away the trail! How was he supposed to find Feliciano now? And just when his conviction had been renewed! Ludwig swore in frustration. His quarry was eluding him, his brother was ignoring him, his shoulder was killing him—

"Hey... I can help you find what you're looking for."

Ludwig snapped his head up. Through the rain and the gale, he couldn't see any source of the voice, and he shouldn't have been able to hear it so clearly through either.

"Come over here," it said a little clearer. It was smooth and lazy, yet somewhat amused.

He looked slowly, and through the gray haze, he thought he made out a light in a clearing. He followed it until the break in foliage was right under his feet. Immediately, he sprinted forward. There was a white tent in the middle of the clearing that sparkled in the falling rain. Whether it was the source of the strange invitation, he was about to find out.

The inside of the tent was frightfully warm, but to his shivering form, it felt wonderful. When he looked around, however, he noticed it was not what he'd imagined. Ludwig was no wizard, but he knew there was magic at work here. He did not see a tent when he opened the flap and cautiously let himself in. Rather, it was an immense, dome-shaped room with dim torches lighting the circumference. The walls were decorated in oily frescoes depicting ancient heroes of lore. Dusty, jeweled cushions were strewn around here and there, along with… balls of yarn?

"Hello?" He asked. His voice echoed about the room.

"Come on. I don't bite."

"Yes, he does!"

"Quiet."

Ludwig blinked in the darkness. He was expecting to see a great monster melt out of the walls or emerge from the floor. Yet these fantasies were put to silence when the beckoning one made itself known. The being was stretched out on its side on the largest cushion in the center of the room. Ludwig approached slowly. This could easily be a trap. Or… not?

It was a brawny man lying there. He appeared human, at least. Or not, since two taupe-colored cat ears poked up through his tangled brown hair, and his eyes were hidden behind a blindfold. Where Ludwig stood, it was hard to see whether the being had a tail to match. He was dressed in a greenish tunic embedded with gems. The biggest was in a ring on his right hand, which he tried to keep covered up by his sleeve.

"You don't like this place?" The being asked with not a hint of concern.

Ludwig jolted. "You can hear thoughts?"

"No, but I can see many things about you." He let out a long yawn and brought his legs to his chest, clutching the cushion in his arms. "I have information you need."

"Not so fast. I don't even know what this is, or what you are, or what magic is making this place real. I'm not going to trust someone just because of a smooth voice and shelter from the rain."

"Rain? Ah, so that's it."

"What?"

"That's where the door is. This place is not where you are. You've crossed a threshold into my cave. It must have been summoned by your powerful ignorance. I decided to take pity on you when I saw you."

He yawned again, showing Ludwig a row of pointy teeth. Sure enough, a furry tail curled around his legs to the front. This was enough to tip the human off. He backed away toward the threshold.

"I can tell you how to find Feliciano," the cat-creature said.

Ludwig froze. "How do you—"

"I told you I know things. Please come sit."

"Not until you explain _how_ you know."

"He is really giving you a hard time, this one!" A grating voice laughed, though Ludwig saw no one accompanying the cat-creature.

"Shut up," the cat-creature whined. He sighed and pulled himself up.

Without seeing his eyes, Ludwig couldn't be sure of his intentions. He intensified his icy gaze, trying to look authoritative, though he wasn't sure whether the other could see him or not.

"I am a sphinx," the cat-creature explained. "A spirit-creature that can see into the hearts of people and the breath of the past. I can see the story of man and beast and fairy and demon. I know the intentions of all who live and all who have perished and can see the tapestry woven by lives intersecting."

"You don't sound all that enthusiastic about it," Ludwig argued. "And I've read about sphinxes. Aren't you supposed to be more lion-like with wings?"

"Oh, he's got a point, there!"

"You shut up," the sphinx growled. "My mother was a true sphinx. She had the body of a lion and the wings of a golden eagle. She perished when a human was able to solve her greatest riddle, and she threw herself into the sea. When she died, I inherited her powers. I can become a cat if I choose."

"A little kitty! Not so intimidating!"

"Please excuse him," the sphinx said, raising his voice only slightly. "I've tried to get rid of him, but he won't come off."

"Only because a good sphinxy needs a good djinni to help him stay out of the wet rain!"

"You are not a djinni. You are a mortal trapped in a cursed ring."

"I am so _a_ real djinni!" The grating voice argued, and wishing to prove its point, the sphinx's ring glowed, and a misty, masked figure emerged from the stone. The sphinx hissed, but the so-called djinni just crossed his arms and laughed. "A real djinni straight from the nether-world! Master of dreams and weaver of wishes for the worthy!"

"Wishes?"

"He can't grant wishes," the sphinx urged. "He's mad. I _know_ he is really just a mortal. I put on the ring many years ago because it was supposed to trap my greatest enemy, but now I can't take it off."

The misty man scowled. "That story doesn't become true every time you tell it. I am an all-powerful djinni—"

"If you really were an all-powerful djinni, I would be able to see your past as a djinni. But all I can see is a man called Adnan who stole jewels and told outrageous stories and solved the greatest riddle. You've never once granted a wish. The ring is making you mad."

"You can just shut _up!_ This conversation has _never_ ended well!"

"Sphinx! You said you could tell me how to find my friend Feliciano!" Ludwig yelled to stop the heated argument.

The sphinx turned to face him again. He placed his ring finger into a cup of olive tea, and Adnan disappeared back into the stone.

"Yes, I can, though there is a price."

"A riddle?"

"A riddle. If you can solve it, I will tell you how to find him."

"And if I can't solve it?"

"If I were a true sphinx, I would bite off your head, but I'm not as vicious as my mother was. I'll just let you go back out in the rain to languish in your ignorance."

"How will I know you aren't just tricking me? If you can see my past, you can tell me something you know I can't solve."

"I play fairly," said the sphinx. "You get three guesses."

He then reached up and untied the blindfold. His eyes were green like mist over a lake with slits for pupils. Ludwig couldn't help but stare. A shiver ran down his spine, but that was probably part of the pressure.

"Tell me the riddle," he forced.

The sphinx spoke, then, and his lazy voice echoed off the walls of the cave.

" _ **I have no feet, and I love the sun.  
I have four feet, and I love the moon." **_

"I have heard this one before! I can tell you the answer if that is your wish!" Adnan cackled from within the ring. The sphinx plunged him into the tea again and held him there.

"No feet, love the sun. Four feet, love the moon," Ludwig repeated. Instantly, he was searching for an answer.

 _Perhaps it is a plant. Something that appears only during the day or night. A flower? Moonflowers bloom at night. But they don't have feet. It's that strange riddlespeak. Maybe he isn't talking about feet at all, but something like roots. But roots exist during both day and night. Petals? Moonflowers have five petals. And it wouldn't be a flower because the thing loves both the sun and the moon._

 _Something that changes yet loves day and night._ Scheiße, _is it me? But I have two during the day and two at night. But a wolf-man loves the moon. Except he would have two during the day as well. A changeling? They transform whenever they want to. Oh, but sunny weather is safe for changeling antics, and stormy weather is dangerous. But how could a changeling have no feet? They can't turn into plants or inanimate objects._

"Confused?" The sphinx purred with amusement. In a mesmerizing way, his lip swelled and split into that of a cat's.

"Of course not. Just give me more time."

 _Inanimate objects. Things that have feet. A chair? It wouldn't be a chair. Poetry has feet! A poem about the sun or the moon? Sun. Moon. Day. Night. Light. Dark. All at least have one syllable. Aren't feet used to measure things in some places? But why specific quantities? And the sun and moon? Wait, a shadow! Shadows grow and shorten. But that wouldn't make sense. A shadow's length just depends on where the light is. The sun or the moon wouldn't make a difference._

 _No, there must be a straightforward answer to this. I'm the best at thinking straightforward. What has feet? People and animals. People more so, since their feet are called feet. So maybe it's something that has people. Like… that must be it!_

"A bed," he said. "A bed has no one in it during the day and two people at night."

"A very good guess," said the sphinx, "but it is wrong. You have two more."

 _Not a bed!? I was sure of it. But I guess a bed can be built for just one person as well. What other things hold people? Houses? Carriages? Horses pull carriages. Horses have hooves, so it couldn't be a horse._

 _It must change its preference and its number of feet. Are the feet changed by the preference or the preference by the feet? Or do they change together? Because something becomes something else? I'm just going in circles._

The sphinx yawned, a bored expression painting itself on his face.

 _Something… wakes up. No feet during the day, four at night. It must be something nocturnal. Something that hunts at night. Bats? Or… it doesn't use its feet during the day. That's it. I forgot what you looked like when I came in here. Hands hidden under your cushion._

"A cat," he said. "A cat curls its paws under itself in the sun and is up walking under the moon."

The sphinx gave a small smile — big enough so his pointy teeth could poke through his lips. "That is correct," he said. "Perhaps it should've been harder, but you aren't asking for much. Unless you do want to know something else. I can tell you anything your heart wishes to know."

"Tell me how to find Feliciano. The fairy dust trail has washed away, and I have no idea whether the mercenaries are going to Allegria or back to the capital or are just leading me in circles."

"Very well. Let me concentrate. It's a little harder to see someone's story when he isn't right in front of me. Luckily, you have a strong connection to him." He closed his cat-like eyes and emitted a whispery groan. "Feliciano Vargas Roma, second son of Gianfranco Roma who perished nineteen years ago by turning to stone… Feliciano can be found at a story's origin, and with him is a flawed counterfeit."

"Flawed counterfeit?"

"You know who took him."

"The people who took him… Alfred's disguised himself, hasn't he?" His voice caught. "He's disguised himself as me. He has a scar on the back of his neck. That's the flaw. And the story's origin? It must be the place where Feliciano and I first met and our separate lives converged. I'll find him with Alfred in Lafée? Is that it?"

"Yes. That will soon be the answer, as that's where he will soon be, but you must go quickly, or the answer will change. Trouble is brewing. I can see it."

Ludwig shot up. "Thank you. Is that really all? I can really find him there?"

"Of course. You bested me."

"But it took him a while, and I could've just told him the answer! I can fix all of your problems! I am a real-life, no-joke, all-powerful djinni!"

"And Feliciano has an amulet that can _really_ grant wishes," Ludwig told Adnan.

"No amulet can best my powerful magic!"

"Thank you, sphinx," Ludwig said again before walking toward the door.

"It's Heracles," the sphinx said. "And Ludwig, I can see your frustration. You don't understand who you're supposed to be in a world where you have so many faces."

He turned, sadness evident in such cold eyes. "Another reason why I need to break the curse."

"I'm certain your curse will be broken in time. But there are still things I know you deeply want to know about who you are. Things you can't remember and Gilbert can't tell you, but you must know in order to really understand. You see, your story does not have a beginning."

Ludwig's lips parted in shock. He knew what the sphinx meant.

"You can see my family. The family I was taken from."

"I can see the story of your life. Where you were born, your parents, how you came to be raised by the changeling called Gilbert."

"Then tell me! Tell me who they are! Who are my parents? Who is my changeling? Did he ever get caught? D-do I have siblings? Am I even from Volkerburg at all? Who would I have been!?"

"One piece of knowledge at a time, my friend. Perhaps we will meet again, and then maybe I'll tell you," Heracles yawned.

Ludwig was about to argue, but a harsh wind suddenly smacked him in the chest. When he opened his eyes, the world was soaked. He was out in the rain again. The tent was nowhere in sight.

"Was that a dream?" He questioned. "No, it must have been real… Feliciano!"

"No, I'm Lovino, you stupid mundane. We've been looking for you for an hour. Why're you just standing out in the rain waiting for a bird to shit on your face?"

Ludwig straightened himself out. He felt stiff all of a sudden. "Lovino, Kiku, I know where to find Feliciano. It may not make much sense, but we have to go to Lafée. That's where they're taking him. I don't know why, but it's the answer."

"How do you know that is where he is?" Kiku asked.

"A spirit-creature told me. One that looked like a cat."

"Oh, so now you can see them, too!?" Lovino shrieked.

* * *

At about the same time, a little yellow bird was quite lost.

It knew it was going the right way. Gilbert had enchanted it to know Ludwig, so if instructed to go to Ludwig, it would know how to find him. But the bird had flown into a rainstorm, and the letter in its beak had grown damp and heavy. Droplets splashed into its eyes and blurred its vision. The thunder scared it, and it shivered with cold.

There was nothing else to do but land. Swiftly, Gilbird tucked its wings and dove through the torrent, looking for a safe branch to land on. It found one quickly. Little claws gripped the bark, and yellow feathers puffed up and shook off the rain. Gilbird fretted over the state of its cargo. It could see the ink starting to smear from the dampness.

"Do you think we can get there by evening?" It heard someone say. Gilbird recognized the voice. It was the bubbly countertenor of Feliciano. And in the way birds connect things without considering them much, Gilbird knew it had found the one it was looking for.

"We should be able to, though I can't judge distance. We didn't travel this way last time. I do hope we can get there. I'm extremely hungry."

"Are you not eating enough? Doggie, you keep complaining about your hunger, and it's not healthy to—"

"I'm not starving myself. It's nothing like that. The days are shortening, so naturally, I'm starting to feel more like a dog than a man during the day. My appetite is just growing. That's all."

"Doggie, what are you going to use the amulet for?"

"Well, right now, I'd use it for about a hundred potatoes, five loaves of bread, and a chocolate ganache cake. Not to mention a gal — er — a liter of milk to wash it down. Or two. And two more cakes, and a hotdish. Did I mention bread?"

"You really are hungry! Maybe you'd like some of my spider pasta, too!"

 _"Ja,_ I'd eat that. I guess I am hungry enough to eat a spider. I made someone eat a spider once. It was a clever and hysterical antic. One of many antics I committed. There was another involving a man's mustache and a grape. Ah, yes, and the fish."

"Are you sure you aren't just making this up?"

"Maybe."

With no doubts, the bird launched itself from the tree branch and swerved between raindrops and tree trunks. There, because he could not find any better shelter, was Ludwig, with a huge blanket wrapped around him and Feliciano to keep the rain off. The bird dove down in front of Ludwig's face and hung there with the letter in plain sight.

When Ludwig noticed the bird, he froze in place. Then his face twisted into a frightful smile, and his eyes seemed to glitter with delight. He held out his hand, and the bird perched on his finger. It then dropped the message, which Ludwig was quick to accept.

Without even telling Feliciano, who was blindfolded, Ludwig unfolded the letter. He frowned. The rain had smeared away much of the message, and the parts left were barely legible. Still, Ludwig squinted at the letters and tried to make as much sense out of them as possible.

 _a L  
You must be so…  
I will tell you everything if you come meet me in Lafée as quickly as possible. Trust me, I…  
on my way there now.  
Feliciano will be… with us…  
-Gilbert_

Gilbird had never seen Ludwig smile so much before. It was an odd change. The bird twitched its head around, trying to spot that good fairy who had healed it. Noting that he was not present, the bird ruffled its feathers in disappointment and burrowed itself under Ludwig's shirt like it had with Gilbert's. Ludwig's chest radiated a surprising amount of heat, almost as if a star were beneath his skin. It was too easy to fall asleep while the man furrowed his brow in humored confusion.

It was too easy to give in to tiredness and warmth when Ludwig smiled at Gilbert's letter, Feliciano was blindfolded, the green-winged fairy was missing, and a band of mercenaries rested under a greenish bubble just out of sight.


	53. Double Agent Double Act, Pt 1

Alfred was having far too much fun being Ludwig.

For one thing, he'd never felt so healthful in all his life. The strength of his new shape proved impressive, and his lungs were well-adapted to a vigorously active lifestyle. Despite the chronic hunger, he usually had a good supply of energy and had no troubles getting up or walking for several miles at a time. (Not that he usually had trouble with long walks, but as a born shapeshifter, he could easily tell the difference between his moderately athletic physique and Ludwig's musclebound machine of a body.)

Then there was his _voice._ Hearing such a deep and powerful voice rolling off his tongue was a new experience. He was sure if he yelled, he could silence and organize a room full of arguing adults if he wanted to. And it was fun to twist his accent into the guttural timbre that made the hard _R_ s of his northern vernacular sometimes as soft as if he wasn't saying them at all.

And seeing as Feliciano was poisoned by his own trust of Ludwig, it was far too easy to get carried away in the role. Ludwig was already an odd character, and Alfred found great fun in exaggerating Ludwig's traits and weaving stories based on them. The stories went in his usual improvisational style: a statement, some somewhat believable circumstances, and a very unbelievable escalation to the point where even Feliciano continually questioned whether the story was true.

But "Doggie" insisted it was, and Feliciano believed him. (Yes, Feliciano believed the dog-man had once fit fifteen rubber tennis balls in his mouth and accidentally swallowed some in the process.) In all honesty, Alfred did feel a little guilty about it. If anything, he was sure he was feeding the spell in Feliciano's mind. But he just couldn't help it. His freedom was bubbling up inside. His lip twitched, and his mind sparked, and his ears tingled, and he felt _mischievous_ all over the place, and a lie flew out of his mouth and nestled itself in Feliciano's heart, and Feliciano was clueless to stop it.

Alfred was having far too much fun, so it was about time they reached the town of Lafée from the road, and he could remember that he was supposed to save the fairy, not beguile him more.

It was Feliciano's preference in where they should stay. He picked a more expensive inn than the one the Mercs had initially met in. Alfred was careful with appearances. He took the money furtively from Francis before entering town before their paths diverged for what could be a while. After all, a winged fairy with a blindfold was suspicious, and associating him with such a large group that included even Sir Francis could lead to some unwanted circumstances. Then there was the fact that Alfred was mimicking other voices extraordinarily well. This town was more paranoid than the others, and it was partly Alfred's fault… no, it was entirely Alfred's fault.

"Can I please take it off now?" Feliciano asked once they had settled in without any major mishaps. (It was the biggest effort he'd ever made in his life to swipe his silver-hewn scissors across his cheeks for the guards and not shriek, much less twitter in fear.)

"No, you mustn't remove it. We don't know if they're following us. It could be even more dangerous if we don't see them coming into town."

"But they can't see what I see. If they're tracking us, they won't have known where we were going."

"But they _could_ see. That's the thing. They could see this town. Then they'd be here in a flash, and the chase would begin all over again. It's for your own safety, Feliciano."

"Awww, but I'm sick of it. I want to see the sunshine and the colors. Stupid, stupid mercenaries. They're monsters. Absolute monsters."

"They're not monsters. They just have the wrong idea. My brother isn't a dark wizard. Whoever sent them that letter is crazy."

"More than crazy. More like a monster himself. Doggie, I'm going to tell you something. I just… I know I… I never talk like this, but… I… _hate_ them. They're _liars,_ and they want me to trust them. But I can't. Because they're liars. And it… it seems weird because I feel like I don't know, like I never learned, but I just _know_ like I've _known_ for so long, and I know I've told you this before, but I just can't listen to what they're saying because I know it's not true what they have to say. And why would I ever trust a changeling? And… Doggie, there's a voice in my head!"

"A voice?"

"It's my _conscience,_ Doggie! I can hear it! And it tells me what I know is true, and it _t-tells_ me not to listen to them! Only to you! A-and it tells me you're happy to have the amulet."

Alfred jerked.

 _"You aren't hearing voices_ _,"_ he said in Lovino's voice.

"Yes I am hearing one! Just one voice! This raspy laugh! It's my conscience! I never even knew you could physically hear your conscience inside your head, but I can hear mine! It guides me whenever I think about the mercenaries a lot. It tells me they're liars. Sometimes I get confused, but I feel better and can settle my thoughts when I listen to it."

 _Shit,_ Alfred thought. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, that spell is friggin'_ sentient _and it's controlling him, and he's trying to fight it but it's too strong, and I can't do anything because I'm supposed to be his friend, and if I tell him who I really am he'll just freeze up out of fear and call me a liar and always be suspicious and_ shit!

 _Can hypnosis even be this powerful!? Gilbert never really told me about all the effects. Just how to use it. But I guess he did call it the "dirtiest little charm in the book." Feli, wake up already! Come on! Fight! Fight it! Maybe you can't win, but just try! Try to resist!_

"Are you okay?" Feliciano asked. "Is something wrong? You've stopped talking."

"It's not normal for you to hear the voice of someone who isn't there."

In the voice of Kiku, who wasn't there, " _You said it's not your voice?"_

"No, my conscience sounds more like a raspy old man, kind of. With an accent like Doggie's. It's funny. But I never hear it for long because lately, I've been getting these weird headaches, and my magic starts feeling a little weak. Maybe it's part of a weird power I haven't discovered yet. Or… you don't think it could be Grandpa guiding me, do you?"

" _It's not Grandpa. You're talking like it's an evil magic parasite or something. You should stop listening to it immediately,"_ Lovino urged.

Feli frowned. "But it's not saying anything evil. It's just saying the truth. The mercenaries _are_ liars, and I _am_ going on a quest with Doggie, and Doggie _is_ happy for the amulet."

 _Fight it. Please. Please don't be useless. I know you're stronger than you look._

But beneath the blindfold, Feliciano only looked cluelessly back at his irrational friend.

* * *

That night, he abandoned Feliciano to retrieve Arthur across town. It was a tricky process. No one was allowed outside at night anymore in Lafée, so Alfred had to use a bit of Invisibility Dust to go find his magician friend, and Arthur had to come back after taking a little bit, too.

"When did he tell you this!?" Arthur whispered harshly when they returned to where Feliciano slept.

"Just today. He said whenever he thinks too hard about us, he hears a voice, and if he listens to the voice too long, his magic starts feeling weak."

Arthur was already on it. He clutched his hands around Feliciano's head with no concern for if he woke up. He moved his hands down over the fairy's neck and chest and stomach, then up to his neck again and out to his arms. He rolled Feliciano onto his front and put a hand flat on his back between his wings, then took two and rubbed his shoulders, and up to his neck again, then to the points of his ears.

"Dude, you're going to wake him up."

"I'm checking his magical vitals."

"You want me to use my sleeping charm?"

"Even your sleeping charm is too dangerous now. This stupid spell is trying to push me out, and I'm not even touching it."

"Is it sapping his magic?"

Arthur settled his hands around Feliciano's head. A few emerald sparks flew out of his fingertips, and he cursed at the quick jolts of red lightning spiking and flickering across his nails. The sleeping one whimpered in pain.

Arthur reduced his voice. "A bit tender. Hmm… he said headaches?"

 _"Ja,_ headaches."

"In this case, headaches may in fact be a good thing. It's proof he's still fighting. The spell has to make an effort for him to believe it."

"So that's why he went batshit earlier. It's like he was arguing with himself. Like he couldn't make up his mind on what to say. The spell was winning, though. That's when he told me about the voice. He thinks it's his conscience. A raspy voice with an accent like mine."

"I wish I could know how long he's been hearing this voice. I checked, and it's not sapping him. His own magic is still pulsing healthily. I can't feel any interference between the light and the dark, nor any agitation."

"Oh, thank Gilbert."

"It may be potent, but sapping his energy isn't its purpose. It's still a thin layer of magic. In fact, I can feel a few more 'scars' in places."

"So why does he feel weak?"

"I've got a theory. He doesn't feel weak. He feels _normal._ When the spell presents itself to him as the voice, he can feel a tiny bit of its magical energy squeezing around his subconscious. That could be another reason for headaches. Now, he begins to submit to it, and it relaxes. His beguiled subconscious mistakes the spell's thin layer of energy for his own, and when it relaxes, his magic feels 'weaker' because he can only feel his real magic, which has a much lower frequency."

"And you know this because you rubbed his chest for a while?"

"Have you forgotten that working with magicks is my profession? 'Rubbing chests' is how I've been able to detect and remove some horrible hexes from people."

"Women's chests, too?"

"And there's the difference between you and me. I'm not a wild child with his mind in the gutter."

"I'm thirteen. Cut me some slack."

"Oh, yes, take all the slack you need. Be forever childish."

"Does your cynicism make you hard to get?"

"No, actually, I had several lovely women interested in me at one point due to my charming aloofness. Then I became a convict, and that was too much for them… and their fathers. Not that I care. It's all about them and what they want."

"Clearly those eyebrows don't help much either."

"Clearly someone hasn't looked in the mirror."

"Clearly someone's jealous of my currently godlike jawline. But let's get back to hexes. Now, you know how to remove hexes, but can you apply one? Or a curse? You know about curses. I'm still not convinced you didn't put a curse on someone."

"That is the absolute _last_ thing that should be on your mind right now. This poor man's being controlled."

"Control. Beyond your control. A blood curse to control someone. To control someone named Peter."

It was a mere guess, but Alfred caught the other's quick inhale. His mischievous side purred.

"You don't even know what you're talking about, and this is no time for antics. I'm warning you."

"But I'm the Master of Antics."

"No you're not."

" ' _Ie bitte?"_

Arthur ignored him. "What a bugger. I guarantee you Feliciano will burst into tears when he learns the truth."

"Gilbert should be here soon. He said in his letter that he's on his way, and he'll explain everything. I think it means he knows something and can help us!"

"Did you write anything back?"

"I couldn't. That yellow bird of his flew away. And it bit my pinky, too. I didn't think little birds could bite so hard. They don't even have teeth. We just have to trust he'll get here. I'm pretty confident."

"You're confident on a lot of things. Where does it all come from?"

"I have something inside me that other creatures find hard to come by. It's called freedom."

"That's what I figured."

"Plus I seem to naturally be the confidence wellspring around here. Heroes can't show fear."

"What are you going to tell Feliciano about your stay here?"

"That if we take a break, he won't have to sleep on the ground for a while. Though I'm sure he usually doesn't when he's traveling alone."

"Be careful. You make sure to let us know when Gilbert arrives. For the sake of confidence, I'll agree with you that he is in fact coming."

"Oh, he's coming, and he's going to help us."

"I sure hope so. Anyway, I should be getting back. I think the guards have just passed this street. Make sure to keep in contact. I'll need to monitor the spell more. And Alfred…"

" _Ja,_ milord?"

The potent emerald of Arthur's eyes sharpened. "Believe me, this is saying a lot, but I'm putting a modicum of faith in you. If and when this mentor of yours arrives, it will be your responsibility to put none of us in danger, yourself included. It's just… I have a 'gut feeling' that something isn't going to be as easy as you're putting it."

"Gilbert's not a bad guy. He answered my letter, and he's on his way. Now, tell me again how you're putting your faith in your best friend who you're _totally_ not terrified of."

" _Whom,_ and goodnight, shadowborn."

"At least come up with a better nickname than that boring old one."

"My apologies to Your Great Darkness. Sweet dreams, Lord Igelthorn McEagleclaw of the Northern Swamps of Yondershore."

Alfred started to laugh in his true voice, then, and Arthur had to work to cover both Feliciano's ears and his own to escape that haunting, bell-like sound of pure, wild mirth.

* * *

Gilbert's good heart was not within him nearly a week later when he approached the town of Lafée on the black mare. His legs were jellying again, and his shoulders had been giving him trouble for quite a while. His sleek brunet hair was not as pompous as it usually held up, instead falling into his eyes in greasy chunks and adding to the sweat and oil plaguing his complexion. It was hard to imagine he'd be sweating in November, but Edelstein's godforsaken body was capable of hindering him in any way possible.

From a hidden loop on his belt, he took a vial full of scarlet fluid and shook it a bit, grumbling to himself about the mess he'd made and the repercussions he couldn't even begin to fathom. Likely Alfred was in town at this very moment anxiously awaiting the arrival of his old mentor. With him was bound to be Feliciano, probably gagged with his hands behind his back so he couldn't use magic.

 _"I would treat him better than that,"_ he muttered before swigging the potion. It was incredibly sour — probably aged a bit too much in that dusty chest — but he'd never needed to use it before. In minutes, his eyes began itching furiously. He removed the spectacles to rub them and cursed. At least now the boy wouldn't be able to see his Depth in case he decided to hide his identity.

But it would all depend on the circumstances. Ludwig could be in town, too. Gilbert had sent that letter. But where was Gilbird? Why hadn't his little feathered minion returned with a reply? Could it have been attacked again? Worry clawed at Gilbert's insides. Never in his life had he wanted so much to tell his brother everything. It was painful, but he forced the reality upon himself that Ludwig was no longer a helpless humanling wrapped in a robe and sniveling in the midwinter chill. He had become a grown-up as easily as Gilbert became an eagle, and it was time to speak to him as one.

In a flash, it seemed his wish was granted. He looked over just for a second and noticed a man sitting under a tree by the road. A very tall, solid man. Blond and chiseled, though with his head slack. He was asleep with his arms crossed and his legs sprawled lazily in front of him.

"Ludwig," Gilbert breathed. His heart lurched. Ludwig was here waiting for him? In a surge of emotion, he yanked back on the reins, and the black mare, who at this point was mostly sure this was _not_ her master riding her, took the opportunity to buck him right off her back. He landed squarely on his side, whining and clutching at his shoulders.

" _Verrat!"_ He choked out. The mare stomped her hooves and looked at him with a victorious twinkle in her eye. Gilbert scowled, but his vision was still a little blurry from the potion, and his scowl was sent in quite the wrong direction. He tried to move, but his idle limbs — no, his _Edel-_ limbs — were failing him once again.

"Hey," someone said over him. "Are you hurt? I just opened my eyes, and you were lying here."

His heart lifted.

"L-Ludwig," Gilbert croaked. "Ludwig, it's me. Help me up."

He watched the blurry figure shrink back a bit.

"Who?"

Oh, he loved that voice! "Lud!" Gilbert exclaimed, fighting to sit up again and throwing himself around his brother. He nuzzled his cheek against Ludwig's meaty chest while the other cautiously returned the embrace.

"This frame isn't that fragile," Gilbert urged. "Go on, give me a hug. I haven't seen you in forever."

Ludwig let out a nervous grunt. "It's… you?" It was as if he was both sure and unsure of this stranger's identity.

" _Was ist das Geheimnis des dunklen Magiers?"_ Gilbert spilled.

That should prove it, he thought. Even before he used his true voice, the question of the dark wizard's secret proved him to Ludwig every time. But Ludwig did not answer the question despite Gilbert's earnest inquiry. Instead, his muscles tensed around Gilbert's body, and he began shifting awkwardly in the changeling's surprising grip.

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. No reaction was coming from his brother at all. All he had to say was " _Er ist ein Schmetterdämon,"_ but his voice didn't come.

Gilbert pulled his head up to at least see his brother's face, the blurriness having faded. He was about to smile, but the problem made itself apparent. Quite simply, those eyes were not the icy blue he loved. They were much darker. Deep as space and speckled with stars that twinkled in curiosity and were currently frozen in awkward ignorance. Gilbert recognized them immediately, and he had to fight not to reprimand neither himself nor the other changeling he was holding.

No, if he submitted to his anger, he would have even more problems. He compressed it down into a solid, fiery core deep within and tried to treat this as normal. Alfred wasn't wearing his brother's shape and speaking with his voice. Alfred wasn't pretending to be his brother. And if… Alfred… did something to him… if that was why Gilbird didn't come back…

"You're always too serious, Ludwig. You act as if you can't recognize your dear cousin Roderich. I thought you were more respectful than that."

His anger flared within. _Cousin!? Why the hell did I say_ cousin!? _My little Lud sharing blood with Edelstein!? I'm going to be sicker!_

"Rotary…" the other whispered. "Oh! Dear cousin, of course. I hadn't recognized you. Your glasses fell off when you fell, and I was just so shocked at the time. _Ja, ja, das Geheimnis. Das ist gut."_

 _If you don't know what it means, don't show it,_ Gilbert thought with contempt. He accepted the spectacles from the counterfeit, then accepted help up from where he lay. His legs trembled, and the pain in his shoulders had increased tenfold. He found himself having to lean on the other for stability. The mare stood feet away, eyeing him in a _you-deserve-it_ sort of way.

"What are you doing here? You have business in Amotoile?"

"Plenty of business," Gilbert snapped. "What about you? So far from home at this time of year in those clothes? You need a proper coat."

"It's not too cold. I've got plenty of flesh on me. And at night, you know… I grow fur."

Gilbert could see the struggle in those deep eyes. _You haven't changed a bit, kid. Straighten your back and be confident in your storytelling. Confidence! Where's the confidence!?_

"Of course."

"But I've found a remedy at last. I've met a young man from Allegria who's agreed to let me borrow his wishing amulet. I'll be free of the curse!"

 _There you go. Now be your muse. Stop smiling._

In his most Edelsteinish way, he replied, "Oh, how wonderful."

"I'm very excited."

 _Well, stop showing it! Ludwig never smiles like that! You're ruining his face!_

"I agree. You must be truly elated if you're smiling this much. I don't believe I ever remember you trembling in so much excitement."

The other realized how much he was trembling and peered down at his hands. Instantly, his smile vanished, and his face contorted into a much more Ludwigish formality. A faint pink graced his cheeks. He looked down at his dear "cousin" with the subtle smile Ludwig reserved for his loving brother. Gilbert's blood started to boil.

 _I dare you to transform into anything else! Get out of my little brother's shape!_ Sofort!

"Who is this man from Allegria? I know a young nobleman from there."

"He is Feliciano of the House of Roma. A very friendly one with an excellent talent for music."

"Feliciano? He's the one! Yes! What a wonderful coincidence! I was going to pass by this town, but now I must say hello to him. I haven't seen Feliciano in years."

"Haven't you?"

"No. Not since he was my music student. Oh, wouldn't you be about his age? I forgot how old you are. You've grown, to say the least."

"I have," proudly replied the counterfeit.

 _Yes… you have. Probably after you… you… where is he!? Now, now, calm down. Maybe he's okay. He's asleep somewhere. I just know it. I'll just follow Alfred into town and make him nervous. Check up on Feliciano. Look for the real Ludwig. I expected Alfred to use some kind of disguise, but why this?_

Gilbert's stomach kept dropping the closer the counterfeit brought him to town. He lay hunched over on the mare's back while she intentionally stepped over tough terrain to jostle him. The counterfeit didn't notice. He was too wrapped up in his own charade. It was a double act between the two of them, and neither knew enough to bring himself to full mischievous confidence.

Gilbert sat up primly at the makeshift gates around the community. The counterfeit brought a pair of scissors across his cheeks while biting his lip so hard Gilbert knew there was blood.

"And you, sir?" The guard asked.

"Don't you _sir_ me like I'm a commoner. I'm the celebrated Duke of Edelweiss. Even assuming that I'm such a despicable creature is an insult to the entire noble class of Volkerburg. Now, allow me passage, or I will see to it that a better-trained Volkerburg sentinel takes your place. I am well-connected."

The guard, who was young and fidgety, bought this right away, leaving Gilbert both satisfied and disgusted with his performance. He caught the quick glance from the counterfeit Ludwig and took it to be amazement.

 _You don't have to let them see you afraid. They're only human. You are much more._

Ah, Amotoile was just as he remembered it. Paranoid but inefficient. Not even this town had proper _Enthüllung_ holders. The most he saw them were within private homes. The more primitive wards were more common. Scissors and nails and salt all spread randomly depending on who thought them most effective. Nothing like the developed cities of Volkerburg which were uniform in defense.

But Gilbert hated that incense. It was the thing that almost blew his cover on some drinking occasions. And in the cases where he'd been affected but wasn't already transformed, he felt his magic and his life slowly slipping from him. _Enthüllung_ was a killer if one was exposed too long to its noxious spice. At this point, he only graced Alfred with his sympathy for being trapped in that city.

A flash of gold distracted him from his growing contempt for everything fate had given him. A glittery tannish-gold wing, then two, then four. A deep red head decorated with a golden laurel branch had just popped around the corner, and the not-Ludwig stiffened.

"Feliciano!" He exclaimed. "What are you doing here, and where is your blindfold?"

"I took it off, Doggie! I don't like having to wear it all the time."

"Feliciano, you idiot! They're going to find us now!"

"They can't see what I see all the time! I'm sure Arthur has to see what he sees, too."

"Well, I don't know how the magic works! Maybe he can see what you see every time he blinks! Let's go back and put that blindfold back on!"

"Just let me keep it off, _per favore?_ I haven't seen the sky in so long. And for once it's not gray. It's blue! It's blue like your eyes. Your eyes are kind of a pretty blue today, Doggie. It's like they're darker or something. It must be the sunlight, or my eyes are readjusting."

Gilbert watched "Doggie" mutter something like _shit_ under his breath. His face twisted into a smirk.

"Herr Edelstein! Wow! I didn't know I'd find you here!" The fairy suddenly exclaimed. He ran forward to beckon the duke off his horse for a hug. He was plenty adorable, but Gilbert knew better. He only sat straight up and looked down at Feliciano with only a hint of gladness to see him.

"Hello, Feliciano. Fancy meeting you again after so long. I was just thinking about you the other day. You've grown into an adequate young gentleman. What's this about a blindfold?"

"Oh, thanks! And, em, the blindfold? There's… there's some kind of spell on my eyes that was put there by an evil magician named Arthur, and Doggie said I had to wear a blindfold so he couldn't see whatever I can see. The evil mercenaries—"

"Evil mercenaries? What has been going on in your life, Feliciano? You must tell me."

"It's a very long story, and Feliciano is tired," the not-Ludwig urged.

"I'm not tired."

"Don't you take naps in the afternoon?"

"I took a nap this morning because you said you had to go out and find where Lovino went. Have you found either Lovino or Kiku? I've been looking for them because I thought it was taking you too long, but I haven't seen them anywhere! But you know who I did see? This man who looked exactly like Alfred! Even his accent was similar! I almost froze up before he managed to calm me down."

"See? This is why it's dangerous. If you really do see Alfred, and I'm not there to save you, it will become a mess all over again. You'll have even more spells put in your head!"

Feliciano trembled at these words. His voice took on a squeaky, fretful tone. "But Doggie, it's been a whole week here. Why aren't we going to Allegria? We'll be safe in Allegria. I promise. Roma Villa has wonderful protective spells that my grandpa worked. A-and didn't Lovino buy that shrinking potion? I don't know how well it works on people, but maybe I could carry you and Lovi in my pocket or something and I could fly. I want to fly to Allegria. I don't want to be here. I want to find the amulet in Allegria and give it to you out of the goodness of my heart."

"We will go to Allegria soon," the other growled.

"You said that yesterday."

"Ludwig," Gilbert punctuated. "What exactly is going on between you and Feliciano of all people? I think I need a thorough explanation from both of you. I'll need some time alone with Feliciano especially. Look at him. He's shaken." He struggled to dismount before crossing his arms and glaring straight into those deep, inhuman eyes.

"Wait, Herr Edelstein, you know Doggie?"

" _Ja,_ he's my… cousin," the not-Ludwig sighed.

"Your cousin!? Why didn't you tell me? I told you I knew him."

"I wasn't sure which Edelstein you meant. There are a lot of people named Edelstein."

 _Actually, there's just Roderich, but his wickedness and whininess are enough for a thousand._

Feliciano laughed in spite of himself. "If he's your cousin, you should know he's rich! He's a duke, you know! The Duke of Edel-wise."

"Edel- _vice,"_ Gilbert corrected. Could no one speak properly anymore? He'd _heard_ Alfred call him 'Rotary' without even attempting the hissing last two letters. This made Herr Cheddar-demon both more annoyed and humored.

 _Ill-equipped to be of Volkerburg, I see._

" _Sì!_ Edelweiss! He became duke while I was his student! He's got a fancy ring to prove it! It has a cross on it, right?"

"A cross, yes," Gilbert said, thanking any powers that be that he was wearing gloves at the moment.

"I want to stay modest," the not-Ludwig said. "I didn't grow up visiting my cousins too often."

Something seemed to click inside Feliciano, then. His face twisted in confusion. "But Doggie, didn't you say you don't have any family at all? Your parents died before you were born, and your brother raised you and took care of you, right?"

 _He's not Ludwig,_ Gilbert thought evilly. _Figure it out for yourself._

"That's because I spent most of my childhood not knowing I had other relatives. I was raised by my brother, yes, and I met the few relatives I have years later. I was raised poor, you see. It's still a new concept to me to know my cousin is a duke, and I don't see him very often. He's very busy." The counterfeit grew paler under the weight of his words. He looked to his "cousin" in hopes that his lies would suffice for the real "truth." Of course, the wicked Gilbert just observed his edginess without comment.

"Then it must have been a surprise to meet him! I suppose it was a surprise to meet Doggie, then, too. Was that little boy who lived with you for a while another little cousin? He said you weren't related to him, but he looked a bit like Doggie. Doggie is what I call Loota-vig, since at night he transforms into a—"

"Not so loud, Feliciano! It's been hard enough trying to hide it!" the not-Ludwig scolded.

 _A little boy who looked like Ludwig? Huh. Interesting._ "You know of Ludwig's curse?" Gilbert asked.

"Of course he does," said the counterfeit. "We've been traveling together on a quest to find the amulet."

"And it hasn't been hurting you at all lately?"

"You think changing _doesn't_ hurt? It's pain beyond your wildest fantasy."

 _And you're making a mockery of it, changeling boy._

Feliciano shook his head. "I should probably sing for you again, Doggie. I hate hearing you cry out when that thing happens with the gross crunching noise in your back—"

"Later. For now, let's get you back to the inn."

"Are Lovino and Kiku coming back?"

"They'll be back later, I'm sure."

"I want to see Lovino's wings again. Does his broken one look bad?"

"The swelling is down, and his wing is much darker, but he's fine."

"We should eat somewhere together when everyone gets back. I think Lovino only met Herr Edelstein once. Or has he?"

"I don't recall if I've met your brother," said Gilbert. "Let's just get back as Ludwig said. I need to sit down for a while."

He caught a defiant sparkle in the counterfeit's eye. _I'm making things hard for you, am I? Good. Perhaps later you can tell me a little more about what's happened since "we" last met._

Gilbert caught several other details while they were returning Feliciano to the inn, too. He caught the counterfeit peering at him worriedly. He caught Feliciano looking up at the counterfeit — at his eyes by the looks of it. He caught the gazes of several figures eyeing his association with the two of them questioningly before ducking out of the sight of Feliciano.

 _You're a mercenary. You're a mercenary. It's foolish trying to hide from someone with such awesome super-observance. Oh, please. Tut, tut. You're not even trying to cover up those pointy ears of yours. Hey, you do look just like Alfred. Who could you be? A knight? Ludwig did mention a knight. And you, sir, all bundled up in the face, can't hide your stature. Demon, I presume?_

 _If Alfred won't tell me where Ludwig is, I'll just have to ask one of you. But the question remains. Should I remain His Grace or show myself as your saving grace? Clearly Feliciano's frustrated. Clearly "Doggie" can't tell him he's a changeling waiting for another changeling to arrive. Clearly, Alfred, you don't know who you've just pissed off, and you've forgotten "heroes" don't show fear._

 _This is going to be a long night, isn't it?_

* * *

 **~N~**

 **A very long night indeed. Thanks again to EaglesFeather17, (who has some wonderful Prussia stories,) for help with some of the "Folkerburgese."  
We just passed 7,000 views on this story! Can we get 50 reviews? **


	54. Double Agent Double Act, Pt 2

_Keep him talking. Keep him talking. Why are you looking at me like that!?_

Alfred desperately hoped the loud thudding in his chest was from his changeling instincts sharpening his awareness and not merely a product of his growing anxiety. Next to him on the little couch sat Feliciano, and across from them, lying dramatically on the bed, was the man who called himself Rotary Edelstein. His violet arrogance, more often than not, was focused intently on his dear "cousin." Alfred was sure this was the kind of situation his inborn cleverness was meant for, but its suddenness had caught him completely off guard, and he was afraid of his tongue betraying him to the duke he'd never met.

"So Doggie and I had to hide because the changeling could've been anywhere in the city! I was so scared! At first, I couldn't even find Doggie!"

"You didn't look for him, Ludwig?" Edelstein accused. "You just left him out to be taken? If he was swapped before, he could just as easily be swapped again. It's all too simple for a changeling to emulate innocence."

Alfred had already decided he hated that honk of a voice. "It was nothing like that," he replied, filling his voice with authority. "I was trapped. My curse had taken hold of me. I couldn't risk anyone seeing me, lest they think _I_ was the changeling or another monster in their midst."

Feliciano nodded vigorously. "I agree. Besides, Doggie did call for me, and I found him. Then we were all safe for the night. Or… we were together. Safety in numbers, I meant. I didn't feel safe at all. I was just so scared that any moment, an ugly creature of darkness would come into our little alley and snatch me away."

"And who did you say put this spell in your head?" Edelstein questioned.

"The changeling called Alfred. I'm not even sure that's his real name, but he's one of the mercenaries trying to separate me from Doggie. He made it so whenever I see him, I just… freeze. I can't feel anything when I'm frozen. Just fear. I can't even see or hear what happens around me."

"Which again, is why you need to put the blindfold back on," Alfred pushed.

"But I—"

"The reason why it took so long for me to find you last time was because you couldn't cry for help. They took advantage of that spell on you. Put it back on."

"Nonsense. Let him keep it off for the time being," Edelstein put, his own voice dripping with stylized influence. "I've never been one to trust magic whether it works or not. We may as well ignore it while you feel comfortable, Feliciano."

Feliciano squirmed in his seat at the first words, but liked the idea of retaining his vision. Alfred resisted the urge to chew on his lip again. He _really_ didn't like Ludwig's cousin. And he _really_ didn't like that he was here in the room with him.

Then Edelstein spoke again. "So what happened next?"

"Oh, so Doggie and Kiku and I were going to leave, but then we learned about Lovino, and I was called down to look at him, and, and, oh, it was so terrible—"

"Feliciano, do slow down. Your accent takes getting used to, and with that congested presto, I can't understand a word you're saying. Perhaps Ludwig should take his turn. I want to know what my cousin thinks of all this. Ludwig, you can explain."

"It's Feliciano's brother. He should tell that part of the story."

"I don't even really like that part of the story," Feli interrupted. "We can skip it. It's just… Lovi got a wing shattered by the snow demon."

"We decided that we should go to Allegria, then," urged Alfred.

"Did you have any mishaps along the way? Clearly, you're not to Allegria yet."

"There was an eagle," he replied, remembering something Ludwig had said on the beach. "It attacked us."

And Feliciano took charge of the storytelling again, much to his relief. "Yeah! That happened! There was this really big black eagle, and it flew out of a tree right to where Doggie was standing and clawed him up. It even tried to steal the wand from us! We were able to trap it and put it to sleep, but I'm still a little worried about it."

Edelstein looked strange for a moment. There was the slightest twitch of a muscle in his lip, and his eyes darted upward in thought. He didn't speak for a few minutes, only creasing his brows and shifting his shoulders to get comfortable.

"Is something wrong, cousin?"

Edelstein yawned. "Oh, it's just my back. It always gives me trouble. My side is ever so sore from falling today. And my legs are weak. Stupid curse on them put me in a wheelchair for years."

Feliciano gasped. "That's right! You couldn't even move them! But at least you could still play the pianoforte."

The duke nodded primly. "Of course. Music is the essence of life. It is the Medium which needs no silly thing as magic to make one feel satisfied."

"That's rude. Feliciano is a music caster. He loves to work magic with his songs."

"To each his own. I taught him to play, and his songs are his own creations, not mine. _I_ don't require magic. It has caused me far too much pain. A shame I won't live long enough to see a world without the hideous, parasitic _imps_ stealing children and cursing bodies. A world without the anguish of a mother who goes to feed her child breakfast and finds _it_ in the chicken coop, hollow black eyes and feathers in its teeth."

 _You goddamn piece of… no. I am Ludwig. My mind and body are Ludwig._ _Getting angry won't help._ "On behalf of Feliciano, I will say I've seen the benefits of magic firsthand. Don't be so quick to generalize it in front of him. Every evil thing has another side."

"Not every evil thing has a good side. Changelings are one example."

"Get used to them," Alfred retorted.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No one will see a world without them. There will never be a world without them. They're born from the shadows. They're made of magic. You can't take the magic out of the world, or all fairies will die."

"They really are born from shadows?" The fairy squeaked.

"It's what the legends say about them. Shadow, moonlight, and the blood of fairies — three things that are all highly magical in nature. I read a poem about it once, and I've read many folktales about it. There's more truth to folktales than you know. Folktales have told us for centuries to use salt and iron as wards, and I say they work so well, they're being used too often nowadays."

Edelstein just clicked his tongue, disgust evident in his puckered countenance. "You should be lucky you don't remember the infestation of two decades ago that I lived through. You're always one to defend them, Ludwig. You'll be stolen yourself with such a liberal attitude. A very witness to the unknown horrors their victims face."

Next to him, Feliciano nodded and fiddled with his hands.

"I was just trying to offer a civil argument. Fairies of darkness will never disappear if magic in the world is to be balanced. There will always be unknown horrors. People will always be stolen. Changelings will always exist. Forever."

"Perhaps it seems so because men are not immortal. But I do hope it will change. An initiative must be taken to ensure the creatures are readily—"

Alfred's patience was just about ready to snap when Feliciano produced a high-pitched, (though perfectly in tune,) whine from his throat. It crescendoed until it was loud enough to block out the duke's voice.

"What is the matter with you, Feliciano?"

"Sorry, it's just, can we please talk about something else? You're both scaring me. I — I don't want magic or anyone to die. Just, let's change the subject, please. Something lighter. Something with less arguing. Like, like… er, the sun is going down! Look! Doggie, you should go soon."

Alfred felt his heart squeeze at such innocence, and Feliciano was six years his senior.

"Go where?" Edelstein asked.

"Out of town. I haven't been feeling myself lately when I become the dog-man. It's for the best that I keep myself out of sight."

"Where are Lovi and Kiku? I'm getting worried about them. They still haven't come back. Doggie, I should go with you. We could look for them."

"No one is allowed outside at night. I'm afraid we won't have enough time. They'll come back."

"Where did they go?" The duke questioned.

"Lovi was angry," Feliciano explained. "He stormed off, and Kiku followed. We were going to give him some alone time, but then Doggie offered to go look for them."

"I couldn't find them."

"I'm worried," Feliciano repeated.

"We can give it until morning. You're right about the sun. I should leave before it gets too dark and the stars take over."

"I could accompany you," Edelstein suggested.

"No, it's really for the best that you stay here. I really can't burden you. I'd feel terrible if anything happened."

"Nonsense. If I remember correctly, you remain mostly human mentally after you transform, don't you? You need someone to accompany you until you're safe and comfortable."

"No, no, I'd rather you stay here and keep Feliciano company."

"But I want to come with, too! I want to know where the others are!"

"You two need to catch up. That's what you said, dear cousin. Feliciano's spent an hour telling you his story, but you need to tell him yours. Hasn't something interesting happened in your life that's worth mentioning to him?"

"Ludwig, I insist you let me come with you."

"For what reason?"

"I must walk in the evenings to strengthen my legs."

"You just complained they felt tired."

"I complained they felt _weak._ I must strengthen them in the evenings. You can be my escort and lead me around town before allowing me to accompany you to where you sleep."

"Yeah, if we walked around town, maybe I'd be able to spot Lovi or Kiku somewhere."

"I agree. We can't have Feliciano worried. Let's look for where they're hiding—"

"There isn't time!" Alfred barked at full volume.

The two shrank back for a moment. While the duke rebounded quickly, going rigid with the reception of rudeness and twisting his lips into an ugly frown, the outburst seemed to have a profound effect on Feliciano. The fairy held one trembling hand up to defend his face while the other rubbed circles on his forehead. His wings quivered, and he whimpered tangled phrases under his breath.

"Feliciano?" Alfred asked softly.

"I'm sorry," he replied even softer, his countertenor quavering.

"I attacked someone last night," Alfred fibbed quickly. "I've been very stressed today. Don't worry about it. I made sure he was brought to good care when I reverted to human form. I'm sorry, Feliciano, and you, Rotary. Just please understand that I don't want to put anyone in danger. I promise that if they don't come back, we can look for them tomorrow."

But Feliciano didn't seem to hear any of this. He was rubbing his temples with both hands, now, and his eyes were narrowed in focus.

"Dear boy, are you all right?" Edelstein asked, giving Feli a poke in the shoulder.

This woke him. His eyes looked wet from an internal exertion."Y-yeah. I might be dehydrated. My head just started hurting all of a sudden."

"Are you feeling ill?"

"No. It's gone now. Maybe I should just lie down for a bit."

Alfred nodded. "Put the blindfold back on and go to bed early. I swear I'll be back in the morning. Then we can… go to Allegria."

"We really can go to Allegria!?"

"Of course we can. Tomorrow, I swear we'll go to Allegria. You can introduce me to your family and search for your amulet."

"Pinky swear!" Feliciano exclaimed. He put his pinky finger in a hook and offered it comically to his large companion. Alfred repeated it with his own and linked their fingers together. He looked down into those amber-gold eyes that were so full of hope, yet the tiniest bit hazy.

 _I'm gonna punch that magic bastard so hard…_

His instincts brought him away from Feliciano, then. His eyes darted first to Edelstein, who was beginning to glare daggers at him. No doubt the duke had some amount of distaste, if not suspicion. He wondered what the true relationship was like between Ludwig and his _imp_ of a relative. Then he looked to the window. The sky had darkened to a shade of lavender. He focused in on its shade, and… yes. A star was rising. Only one, but it would suffice for realism.

"I have to go," he spewed before seizing a wrist and gritting his teeth. _Show me some claws,_ he whispered to his power, and tensing his fingertips, he watched as his nails jutted out and sharpened gruesomely. They were more like his true claw-like nails than the dog-man's claws, but they worked to enforce his urgency. He tried to imagine the feeling of fur sprouting on his hands, and its appearance filled his chest with the victory of mischief made.

"You're starting to change! Go!" Feliciano squealed in horror.

"I'm… going…" he heaved in sudden "pain" just as his teeth sharpened in his mouth. (In reality it felt quite pleasant.) He bolted out of the room and down the stairs, then out into the streets.

It was true he couldn't change into the dog-man completely, but he kept his altered features as he bolted around buildings and down side streets. He sucked air into his spacious lungs and savored the wonderful feeling of being so fit. Each muscle tensed and relaxed rhythmically, and with the power stored in such brawny legs, he was able to propel himself forward at a surprising speed for his weight.

As had happened for the past few nights now, he was meant to rendezvous with at least one other mercenary at a certain tree just outside the town limits. He was nearly to the gates when a hissing whisper caught his attention.

"Over here tonight!" It was Arthur, and he sounded peeved.

Alfred turned his head. He saw the blond mop of Arthur peeking around a corner and beckoning. He followed and found his companion with Francis in an alleyway looking worried.

"Back to our inn," Francis said curtly.

"You—"

"Hush," warned Arthur. "Wait until we return. We must make sure we aren't followed. Are you — what happened to your hands?"

"I had to pretend I was changing into the dog-man. There was no other way to get away without either of them following."

Both nodded, though thoroughly confused by the mentioning of the second man, and led the way. They were able to pass by the newly-stationed guards only when Alfred shoved his furry, clawed hands in his pockets and kept his mouth closed. The only time of pressure came when he came especially close to one of them and got a noseful of fumes from herbs. He began coughing from the odor, and it took Francis ushering him on past for him to not take a hand and plug his nose.

The question on everyone's mind was spoken by Arthur when they found themselves in a room with a square table in the center — apparently the same one the Mercs had begun around. Matthew was there, as well as Ivan, and Yao was keeping watch down on the street below.

"Who is he?"

"Ludwig's cousin," Alfred replied. "Don't ask me why or how, but that's what he said, and the manner in which he spoke to me and our mutual interactions proves it."

Arthur cracked a rare smile at such formality. Alfred realized his folly and shook his head in a very unLudwigish way.

"He talked like he was Luddy's cousin, and he understood me when I talked to him like I was Luddy."

"What does he want?" Francis asked.

"Doesn't _want_ anything. He's just _here._ And he _knows_ Feliciano. And the way this guy talks… my instincts were tingling so bad it hurt, and all I could say was, 'Yes, I do believe you are wrong. Changelings are not going away. Civil rebuttal this and common sense that,' and he still went off about how changelings are evil and all that shit and I'm too nice to understand. Gah!"

"What are you even talking about?" Arthur asked.

"He's a snooty little duke from Volkerburg who hates magic and dark fairies, and I'm just, um, a very very tiny bit afraid of him."

"Afraid?" Arthur scoffed. "So heroes don't show fear, but you're willing to admit you're afraid of this man?"

"Heroes don't _show_ fear. It's not like I can't _say_ I'm afraid," he defended, but his cheeks rapidly filled with heat at such a personal downfall.

"You're, let's say, a hundred and fifteen kilos of solid kickarse with a face that says 'twitch, and you'll taste my boot' and an accent that suggests you just had a lovely breakfast of asparagus and gravel, and you're afraid of a man with frilly lace around his neck who can barely walk straight."

"He wants to kill me."

"He doesn't want to kill you," Francis said. "You're his cousin."

" _I'm_ not his cousin. I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time, and if he finds out I'm not his cousin… and I'm trying to fool Feli, too. What if Feli finds out? I've just been improvising for the past few hours, and everything I say seems to be true with this guy, but if I say something that isn't true, I have a feeling that he's going to be sensitive to it. I'm already on his bad side. I can pick up that much. Plus, I promised Feli we'd finally go to Allegria tomorrow. And he took his blindfold off! No Lovino or freaky ghost around! How'm I gonna explain that?"

"Improvise like you always do, and go to Allegria if you have to. There's no use waiting around if Feliciano is going to get suspicious. Perhaps that's why his head hurts. He's not sure if he can trust you," said Arthur.

Alfred gasped. "Oh no! If he's starting to think I'm a liar… dammit, Gilbert! Get your pale ass here already! I need you!"

"Do you?" Matthew asked.

"Well, _ja._ He's our inside man. If he doesn't come… I'll go to… Volkerburg… and look for the wizard myself."

"You're not going to Volkerburg. Especially without any information. It's far too obvious you're afraid to go there," Arthur droned.

"I'm _not_ afraid! I made a promise to myself! I'm going to be a hero! If that means going, then I'm going! I can't go back on a commitment!"

"Not so loud," Francis warned.

"Sorry. I forget. Do my teeth look normal? I sharpened 'em earlier, and trying to remember how your teeth feel before sharpening for effect is tricky."

"There's a hand mirror in the drawer over there," Arthur said.

Alfred nodded, and for a moment the room was awkwardly silent. All, of course, was broken when Alfred had managed to change his teeth back to normal and was hit with a violent realization.

"Why didn't you guys tell me I look so… _freaky_ when I smile?"

"I think we did," Matthew said.

"Several times," said Ivan. "Luckily, you always look like little changeling to me."

Alfred stared into his reflection, bringing trembling fingers up to trace the angled jawline. He couldn't see himself at first. It was only the strong face of authority which looked back at him, startling him a bit until he realized he could control such an intimidating face. Then he saw the darkness in his eyes and grinned before ultimately closing his mouth again.

Matthew spoke up. "Al, this whole thing seems odd to me."

"I know. Arthur's right for once. I _do_ look terrifying."

"Your voice and shape do confuse me, but that's not the odd part. Okay, so you said he hates dingledoodles, and you defend them too much, right?"

"Right."

"And he's very fond of Feliciano, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"And he's not very coordinated."

"Yep."

"He's a duke, which means he's wealthy."

"You're trying to say _he's_ the letter-writer?"

"Exactly."

Alfred huffed. "That just makes it worse! What am I supposed to do? Tell him I'm one of his mercenaries? I'm freaking _Ludwig!"_

"Lower your voice," Arthur growled.

"You could tell him in private," Matthew suggested.

"He'd never believe I'm on his side," Alfred groaned. "' _Ja_ , I'm a mercenary. I just have shapeshifting powers, and I'm lying to your sweet little music student. Totally not thinking about which marinade is salty enough to balance out his sweetness.' "

"Do you need a hand to hold?" Arthur asked, rolling his eyes. "You're not the only mercenary he hired. I can verify for him you're not a troublemaker."

" _Ja,_ he'd think you're beguiled. Plus, it's just reinforcing the fact that I lied to him about my identity."

"You didn't know he was the writer at the time, and you were trying to keep Feliciano's suspicions low," Francis said.

"And what if he's not the writer? He just told me he had 'business in Amotoile' when I asked him why he was here."

"Would you tell your cousin you hired mercenaries to stop him and his brother from reaching their goal of world domination or whatever that wizard wants?" Matthew asked.

"I guess not. But how can I be sure he's the writer?"

"Ask him about your brother," said Arthur.

"My brother. Hmm, if my brother's a changeling, then Edelstein would know I defend his kind. And he glared at me earlier. I'm obviously on his bad side."

Francis smiled. "If he is the writer, he would know about the dark wizard. Perhaps he knows enough about him to help us go in the right direction."

"Wouldn't be able to tell us his name, though," Alfred warned. "The curse on his hand, remember?"

This was turning out to be very interesting. If one Rotary Edelstein was a fortuitous turn of events, speaking to him would be a huge leap forward. But some instinctual trepidation tugged within Alfred's chest and urged him to turn away.

"If you fled because of the curse, we can go in the morning," Arthur said. "You can keep your charade for the night and until you ask about the nature of your 'brother.' Then get this 'cousin' of yours alone and explain to him what you're really here for."

"Our goal was to separate Feliciano from Ludwig, and that is exactly what we've done," Francis added.

"You're a good doohickey," said Matthew. "We haven't abandoned you. I haven't abandoned you. The writer should respect you for all you've done for him. It was your idea to make Feliciano feel comfortable while we wait for Gilbert to arrive."

"Where is Gilbert?" Alfred moaned.

* * *

A few hours later, he was wrapped up in a blanket in the bed next door from the meeting room. This came only after Arthur had spewed countless profanities about having to sleep on the floor before settling down and acquiescing his position in his blanket nest. For one who had managed to sleep on the ground, the floor was a grave antagonist.

But Alfred couldn't sleep. Edelstein's words hung in his brain like icicles. The tugging in his chest grew stronger. The man unnerved him more than he allowed himself to be unnerved, yet there was a very strong chance he was the one who hired him in the first place.

 _I just have to prove to him I'm a hero. I proved it to Arts. We're best friends now, and he called me a monster at first. The reason I took this mission was to prove I'm not a bad guy. To prove myself to the world. But what about me pretending to be Ludwig and lying to poor Feli? That won't come off well at first._

Disturbed by his perpetual worries, he turned his attention to the window. There were the stars — the culprits for the real Ludwig's troubles. A few dark clouds had moved in, but they twinkled despite the shade.

 _He has a good heart. I know he does. Why is he doing this? What can he gain?_

Eventually, he just decided to take a walk in the night air to calm him. He would sneak around if he had to. Or perhaps he would just stand outside for a while. This fear was irrational, he told himself. He was meant to tell the writer what he'd done. He was meant to prove himself. The Mercs had accepted him. Why not the writer he fought for?

He grunted in conflict and looked at Arthur huddled on the floor before slipping out into the hallway and down the stairs. The door to the outside world creaked as he opened it. Cautiously, he poked his head around to make sure the coast was clear.

It was not.

Edelstein was standing not ten yards away and looking right at him.

* * *

Gilbert supposed it was speaking to Feliciano fondly about his brother that made him so upset. Of course, he had called Ludwig 'cousin' and spoke of only a few fabricated meetings, but when all was said and done, his search for Ludwig in town later on didn't go without a few minor bouts of eye-rubbing in which he berated himself for not pulling himself together. This worry was irrational, he told himself.

When he saw _Alfred_ poking his head out of a door, those emotions surfaced again — dangerous emotions that he would have to keep at bay, or he could end up in real trouble.

But a changeling's love was no docile filly.

Immediately, Alfred decided to duck back in with the notion he hadn't been seen.

"I saw you," Gilbert spat. Then he watched the boy wearing his brother's shape emerge slowly again, his face as pale as the moon and twisted out of Ludwig's level-headed indifference. Gilbert approached him briskly, rubbing his eyes one last time and pushing tangled brunet hair behind his ears. He looked up at the great man and scowled.

"I wasn't expecting you," Alfred said.

"I was," said Gilbert.

"You were?"

"You think you're clever," Gilbert sneered. "You think you're clever, but you're not. I know what you are, and it's not Ludwig. Seeing you under the stars just proves it."

Alfred shrank back. He was trying to keep his face intimidating, but the fear in his deep, dark eyes resonated clear and strong.

 _Pathetic, kid. I told you not to let others see you afraid! Your head jumps to conclusions. Can't you see I don't have a weapon on me?_

"I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to hurt Feliciano either," the younger sputtered.

"Of course you don't. Of course you don't want to hurt anyone."

Alfred nodded like a child who had just been instructed on good manners. Seeing such infantile behavior on Ludwig's body lit up that core of anger within Gilbert. His love was oxygen. He drew his eyebrows together in that pathetic way the real Edelstein did when trying to be defiant toward the wizard. Alfred bought it as intimidation.

He continued, "I want to know something of you. Just one thing. Where did you put the real Ludwig?"

Blue eyes widened. "I didn't put him anywhere. I took his shape from a distance. He was injured—"

"Injured!? Are you the one who injured him!?"

"In self-defense, yes."

"That's a lie."

"Partly self-defense! I-I wanted Feliciano! _We —_ me and some mercenaries — wanted Feliciano to protect him from Ludwig because he's working with a dark wizard—"

"Do you think I _care_ about Feliciano right now!? I know he's real! I poked his cheek with iron after he fell asleep! You're _not_ real! You're not the real Ludwig! Now tell me where he is!"

The sounds of night guards were approaching. Gilbert found himself disgusted as Alfred grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the lobby of the inn. He plopped both of them down on the squashy little couch. Gilbert scooted away, ignoring the looks of hurt and panic contorting his beloved brother's face and desperately trying not to display his own.

"Ludwig isn't dead. I swear it."

"Why would you even think he is!?" Gilbert's chest began to hurt. He'd learned Edelstein's body wasn't meant to handle stress like this, whether by Gilbert's bony hand or Fate's soft, moisturized one.

"I didn't mean that. Besides, he has a fairy with him — Feliciano's brother. He knows some healing magic. He's not dead."

"Where. Is. Ludwig?" Gilbert hissed.

 _Go on, swap-boy. You've just been found out. This is where you either improvise or die. And seeing as I have my flute with me, perhaps you could do with a few minor enchantments in your bones. No big curses. I like you too much to give you one of those. But just a little curse like the ones I put on Edelstein… I hope you know I'm pissed big time right now._

"I fought him near a lake. The last time I saw him, I'd turned into an eagle and was writing to him in the sand the morning after our battle. He was fine. He could speak fine."

"Could he move?"

Hesitation.

"Could he _move?"_

"Not too well. But he had Lovino with him. He knows healing spells."

"But you just abandoned him there to die?"

"I didn't abandon him! I just told you he had a healer with him! I took his shape from afar! It's all for Feliciano's sake! He trusts Ludwig, but Ludwig trusts the dark wizard! We had to separate Feli from Ludwig, but then I had to become Ludwig so he wouldn't be scared!"

Gilbert didn't realize his hands were balled into fists. A sharp pain in the meaty part of his hand signalled that his nails had sharpened, and he could feel a warm tingling in his mouth aching to bring out his fangs. He took control of it before any warmth spread to his ears. His heart ached physically. He clasped a hand over his chest and breathed in deeply, much like he'd seen Edelstein do when the wizard visited him not too long ago.

He felt a sudden weight on both shoulders and realized with a start that this changeling he could neither favor nor despise was massaging him. He wanted to slap the hands away and scream at the boy. He wanted to kick and claw and scream at him before whipping out his flute and playing the most horrid curse he knew. A curse from before his sobering. But he just sat there frozen in what he knew to be helpless despair.

The despair of a big brother who knows not where his little brother is.

"I'm sorry," Alfred whispered.

"' _Sorry'_ can't bring him to me, you, you… _imp."_

"Can you call me a 'shadowborn' instead?"

"Not one name for your repugnant kind has a decent connotation. I'll save myself the syllables."

"Would this be a bad time to ask you if you're the one who wrote the swallow seal letter?"

This insignificant inquiry absolutely infuriated him. "You can't read the atmosphere at all, can you, boy!? I don't _care_ whether you're a mercenary or a _Meerschweinchen_ , but one thing's for certain! You took my brother's shape, and you left him injured out in the cold, and you're going to pay! I'm going to… I'm going to… _Scheiße."_

At once, he watched as his brother's face turned its usual cold and calculating. Alfred drove his dark blue stare into Gilbert's, obviously trying to see a trace of Depth. The potion concealed it, but the damage had been done. Gilbert's uncertain grief had freed the brotherly love that pulled his tongue in just the wrong direction.

"You're the dark wizard?"


	55. Game of Secrets

"Brother, who are you?"

Gilbert smirked as he struggled to tighten his belt to a notch that didn't exist. "Why would you ask a question like that, Luddy? You know who I am."

"You keep changing, like just now."

"Watch your step there. Root sticking up. I'm not always changing."

"But who is Wilhelm?"

"He's me, of course."

"But you're Gilbert. If you're still Gilbert, why do you have to be Wilhelm?"

Gilbert stopped walking. They were almost back to Piyo Fortress, but after reverting to his true form, he needed to catch his breath. Ludwig, who had grown so much his head nearly reached Gilbert's shoulders, shifted the weight of their goodies from town on his back and gave a puzzled look. Gilbert loved all the little faces his brother made. His rather shy nature led them to be subtle, but the careful red eyes could tell the difference between them.

"I've always been Wilhelm in town and Gilbert at home."

"But why does there have to be a difference?"

"Because, like I've told you before, they're afraid of the real me," he said, baring his sharp teeth in a grin anyone but Ludwig would take for bloodthirsty.

"Why are they afraid?"

Here Gilbert paused. He sought for a response Ludwig would understand and take seriously. After all, he was very smart for his human age, and lately, his questions never seemed to cease.

"Did I ever tell you the story of how you were once afraid of me, too? When I first started taking care of you, you cried whenever you saw my face. You didn't understand that I wasn't a human like you, and I spent hours rocking you and reading to you just so you would fall asleep."

Ludwig scrutinized his brother's shape, his eyes tracing softly over the blood-colored eyes; the pallid, hollow cheeks; the ears like sharpened daggers; the visible contours of bones outlining his fragile frame. "You're… you're not… "

"I'm ugly, Ludwig." A bit of pain marked Gilbert's expression, but he turned away from Ludwig in hopes that he wouldn't see. His tone had taken on an odd seriousness that was rarely heard by his brother. "I've told you what we do. Even grown-up humans have a difficult time trusting someone who looks like this."

"But you weren't the one who took me, right? And you would never hurt me!"

"No, I'd never hurt you, but their fear makes them furious with my kind, and I've humored myself with my dark wizard persona to spite them without putting myself at risk. Now, if they knew the dark wizard Gilbert is a changeling and Ludwig's big brother, they wouldn't be very impressed. It's better in many ways to keep my true identity a secret, for your benefit as well. Now, I really mean it. They'd try to take you away from me, and they'd… not allow you to see me anymore. You can't tell the people in town who I really am. It's our special code."

"I guess if they knew you were the wizard, they wouldn't like you very much. I'm worried about you, Gilbert. You need to be careful!"

"There's no need to worry. I'm sharper than any human but you, and even if they did find out and come after me, you'd protect me, and I'd protect you, right?"

"They won't find out if you watch out for yourself first. I know you like playing with fear, but anyone could tear off your hood and see your face."

"You're growing so responsible, _Tauschlein._ But for now, we're safe with our secrets. Secrets are fun. You know something that no one else can know, or you'll have lost the game, and it won't be fun anymore. Everything in life is one big game of secrets."

"Like how I'm not really your brother?"

Gilbert froze. He gave a worried frown and pulled the boy close beside with one withered hand. Ludwig's little human hands were plumper, and a lot stronger, too. Even such slow growth could produce wonderful results, Gilbert realized. Sadly and inevitably, Ludwig would grow taller than him one day. Yet Gilbert hoped he would stay strong himself to witness it. His heart tugged at the thought. He… actually felt the need to live for… a _human._

But Ludwig could be an exception to his hatred because Ludwig loved him, too.

"Of course you're my brother," he scolded. "Don't you dare say that you're not. I raised you, didn't I?"

"Sorry, Gilbert. I just meant—"

He sternly locked his blood-colored gaze with the innocent blue. "I know what you meant. We don't share our blood, nor our features, nor even our powers. But we look out for each other. Having someone to lean on is the most important thing. _You_ were the one who taught me that. If I'd never met you, I never would have known."

Ludwig produced a great, shiny grin, showing all his peculiar teeth. Then he threw his arms around Gilbert and squeezed so tightly, the latter had to tell him to let go so his poor ribs wouldn't crack. He petted the boy's blond hair in fondness and let loose his wicked laugh, feeling once again full of power and purpose.

His little brother couldn't stop smiling. "Then it doesn't even matter, does it? Forget I'm a human and you're a fairy of darkness. We're just odd brothers, and we won't think it's strange! We won't even tell that secret to each other. A secret forever."

"A secret never to be told," Gilbert agreed. "Now let's get back already, _Tauschlein._ My endless appetite is no secret, and we have salt for our home-grown asparagus now! Second to the noble potato, but still awesome!

* * *

 _A secret never to be told… never to be told… never tell…_

A frighteningly cold hand had just taken hold of Gilbert's — a hand steeped with magic that sent crackles of frozen static through his skin. Its foreign energy pushed through his body, connecting and synchronizing with his inner power, though only for a moment.

"He's a changeling, and his energy is a match with the spell," came a cutting lilt.

"I told you. He said I took his _brother's_ shape _._ Completely gave himself away. I can't believe it's really him. He was so convincing before that slip of the tongue. I was actually _scared_ of him. And dang, I massaged the dark wizard's shoulders."

Gilbert's heart caught. That was Ludwig's voice. So much deeper and stronger than it had been in the memory, but it was Ludwig. But… it wasn't Ludwig.

He remembered.

" _You're the dark wizard?"_

" _Dark wizard? Why would I be any sort of wizard?"_

" _Um, 'cause you just called Ludwig your brother?"_

" _You are mistaken. I never said Ludwig is my brother."_

" _This isn't one of those 'did you hear this or that' deals."_

 _"Well, you heard incorrectly."_

" _No, I didn't."_

" _I didn't say that he's my brother — get your hands off me! Let go! Changeling! Changeling! He's got me around the chest! He's going to take my shape and eat me! Help me!"_

" _Shhh, this town's already met me, and they don't need to meet me again. Now_ sleep."

So Alfred had used the sleeping charm. He should've known the boy would pull that trick. Gilbert kept absolutely still. He was obviously in a bed, as there were soft sheets and pillows beneath him, and the counterpane was making his feet sweat. As he came to be aware of himself, he discovered that he was still in the shape of Edelstein. They hadn't forced him out in his sleep. But a fairy had just felt for his magic and discovered him to be a changeling. He was at the mercy of the mercenaries.

"Well, excellent job with his capturing. Let's beat him violently and get what we can out of him."

"I didn't think you were the violent type, Arthur."

"It was a joke, Alfred. Recklessness won't help us here. We don't know what kinds of hidden tricks he has. Once he wakes up, I'm going to bind him, and then we can get to questioning."

"I just care that he takes the spell out of Feli and leaves him alone."

"Right. Removing the spell will be the easy part if he submits to us first. You can bring Feli here, and we'll make him remove the spell. Now, we may have to threaten him, er, with iron, but—"

"But nothing. Either we're gonna make him take the damn spell out of that sweet little fairy's mind, or I'm gonna get creative with your book."

Gilbert didn't know what this "book" was, but it probably had something to do with curses, and knowing Alfred, he wouldn't have the experience with such fastidious magicks, even if he had the power.

"What are you so angry about this morning? Who is that!?"

"Good morning, Yao. That would be our dark wizard."

"He's the dark wizard? But isn't that the man who followed Alfred around yesterday and walked slow like he was an old woman?"

Gilbert fought back his laughter.

" _Ja,_ he's our baddy. A changeling and a liar. Somehow he found out about where we were going and decided to intercept us. He was so close to Feli. Well, if he put any more magic in his head, we'll make him take it out."

"He is so… ugly."

"Nah, his face isn't the ugly part. He's got burns on his stomach. Now that we know his nature, they've gotta be iron burns. They're just painful to look at."

 _Wait, my shirt is still here, but you looked at my scars!? What else did you do while I was asleep? You… you took my boots. My boots! My flute was in one, and the other…_ Scheiße, _there's no way I can prove my innocence with_ that _in my boot._

"Alfred, why don't you go wake up the others?"

"All right, be back in a sec."

That "sec" ended up being what Gilbert estimated to be a half an hour in which he painstakingly tried to keep as still and natural-looking as possible. He wished he could open his eyes to just see who he was up against, but that magician kept himself in the room constantly, and Gilbert imagined he was a perceptive one.

He nearly fell asleep again, but he forced himself to keep awake and alert. This was a critical moment. One mistake had led to another and another, closing the window of his success until he could barely get his claws under it. That didn't mean he was defeated, he assured himself, but it definitely meant getting out of this situation was going to take a lot of his magic, wit, and awesomeness, and none of those things was allowed to create more mistakes.

He then forced himself to accept he couldn't think about Ludwig until he was far away from these annoyances that called themselves mercenaries. Those emotions were the slippery traitors he did not want to employ again.

"Everyone's here, then?" He heard that low voice of the disguised Alfred ask. "Is Mattie here? All right. Now, I think it's time we ripped off the mask. Bind him, Arts."

Gilbert's breath was suddenly ripped out of him as a pressure constricted around his body. He squeezed his eyes shut. His heart pounded as he felt himself lift out of bed into the air. For a few seconds he floated, and then he felt himself being lowered into what must have been a chair. His arms were stuck to his sides, and his legs to each other, and he knew they were all looking at him, but still he kept his eyes closed.

He ultimately opened them when a stinging pain shot through his cheek. He saw the body of his brother backing away, his hand still ready for another blow. It was the vision of a nightmare.

Gilbert pushed it to the back of his mind and feigned surprise. "Oh, my face! What has happened? Where am I? Dear cousin, did you slap me? Who are all of you, and why are you looking at me so threateningly? I've been kidnapped! Help me!"

"He really does drive that act into the ground, doesn't he?" Said the magician, who revealed himself to be a fairy of the wingless variety.

"I'm not your cousin, and we know you're a changeling, _Alter,_ " Alfred accused. "It's pretty easy to figure it out when you feel energy _that powerful_ flowing through a so-called human.

"Pssh, you mean any energy at all," the magician scoffed.

"Right."

"You think I'm a what?" Gilbert squeaked, violet eyes widening.

"You are changeling, you are brother of dog-man, and you are dark wizard, too," said a new voice that chilled the whole room. The snow demon stood in the corner, smiling eerily and stroking the scarf around his neck.

"That's easy then," said the magician. "Ivan, you can just use your demonsight and tell us all of our friend's secrets."

"No! He's gonna tell us himself!" Alfred argued. He approached the man in the chair slowly. "Tell us what we already know. You're the dark wizard who put that spell on Feliciano."

 _They're all angry because of that harmless little fairy charm? Not even that I'm a changeling? They all sound like the real Roderich. Complaining about every little fault._

"What spell?" He spat.

"The spell that makes him think we're all liars. The spell that twists his judgement. The spell that makes him freeze whenever he sees me. The spell that makes him think Ludwig is his friend. Oh, and the spell that makes him get terrible headaches when he doesn't listen to it. You hear that? It hurts him when he tries to fight it!"

 _Headaches? So that's why he acted weird yesterday. Probably a long-term effect of the charm. Nothing to worry about. It's not like he can get rid of it himself._

"And if I were a wizard, why would I do such an awful thing to poor little Feliciano?"

"Because you're evil!" Alfred yelled so loudly that the others had to remind him of his vocal powers.

Gilbert pursed his lips in disgust. "You people are insane."

"Feigning ignorance will get you nowhere. We were specially hired to stop you and your schemes," said the platinum-blond human, obviously of Amotoile. A muscle twitched in Gilbert's jaw.

"Tell us who you really are," Alfred ground. "I want the truth about you being the dark wizard. And the next thing you can tell us is your real name. Mine's Alfred."

"Why don't you speak with your real voice, then?"

" _If it'll make you talk, then yeah. I'll use my real voice. Why don't you use yours? We can get to know each other a little. My dudes and I won't hurt you unless you're difficult."_

 _His voice is deeper than I remember. I wonder what he's really been up to these past few years? I guess I won't know._

"I wasn't being difficult at all, and you decided to slap me!"

" _Had to wake you up somehow,"_ Alfred shrugged.

"A violent act like that deserves no compliance on my part!"

" _Then we're at war, and you're gonna tell us who you are and why you're here."_

"I am Roderich Edelstein, and I'm taking care of business in Amotoile."

Alfred snapped. " _No you're not! You're a friggin' dark wizard bent on destroying happiness or something, and you're stealing from an innocent little fairy who can't defend himself! Don't you realize how wrong it is to attack someone with no defense!? You disgust me! Now be a man and tell me your real name!"_

"Never!" Gilbert squawked.

" _So Rotary isn't your real name? You admit it?"_

"Of course my name isn't _Rotary._ It's _Roderich. Ro-der-iccchhh._ I thought changelings were better at mimicking vocal patterns. I stand corrected."

" _Well, smartass,_ I _heard 'Rotary.' And you said that your name is Rotary_ _when before you said you'd never tell me your real name, which means Rotary isn't your real name. You're not Rotary Edelstein."_

"Not Roderich Edelstein? Why, but _look_ at me! I am Roderich Edelstein in the flesh!"

" _Dude, we're both shapeshifters. We know that isn't funny."_

Gilbert had to admit this _was_ amusing. Something would give at some point, but listening to Alfred question him and watching him grow so frustrated satisfied his need for mischief in a wonderful way.

"Look," said Arthur, "you can deny your faults all you want, but they come back to haunt you in the end. I say you just give up on your dream of that amulet now. You've been caught."

Francis nodded. "We can only take it that you've disguised yourself as the one who hired us as well. If this Edelstein character is your victim, I must launch an investigation."

"Oh, you know nothing," Gilbert retorted. "All the confusion circulates through the air. You wonder who I am. I wonder who you are. Who has magic? Who doesn't? Where's the truth? You don't know!"

"Now I'm convinced he's the wizard," Yao deadpanned.

" _Yeah, he's the wizard. Now tell us your name!"_

"Roderich."

" _Your_ real _name, changeling."_

Gilbert rolled his eyes. They were convinced of his changelingness. Perhaps it would be much more amusing if his trolling stemmed from their ignorance. "My _shape_ is called Roderich."

" _Now we're getting somewhere. Maybe if you're gonna be so stubborn with your name, you can transform for us. Why don't you reveal your true shape? Or the one you're most comfortable with, of course. Your wizard shape."_

The wizard frowned. "I'm afraid I can't. I'm quite fond of this one. And you wouldn't want Feliciano to be afraid, would you?"

" _You leave Feli out of this. I want your real name and your real shape now!"_

"You don't want either, Alfred."

" _I do, too!"_

"His true name and shape aren't all that important at the moment. What's important is that he's here," Francis said. "A better question would be how he found us. Tell us, wizard, how you found out about our scheme to stop you and our location."

"I have my ways of knowing just about everything. Magic has proven itself good to me, and _very_ convenient."

"You just communicate with Ludwig," Arthur scoffed. "But that doesn't explain why you're here in Lafée."

" _He was looking for Ludwig. He mistook me for him at first because he fell off his horse. I think he saw my Depth and decided to call me 'cousin' so he could see what I was doing, unless this Rotary guy really is his cousin. Then he found out about Feli and made us tell him the whole story of their side of the quest. He got upset last night because he couldn't find Ludwig. Maybe he lost contact with him after our little fight. Brought you out into the light, did it, wizard?"_

"What? Oh, sorry, your true voice is dreadfully annoying, so I decided to tune it out."

" _You know, I find your voice a little irritating, too. I bet you've got a better one you can share with us."_

"I retain my privacy, you conniving creature."

"Really?" Arthur asked, an eyebrow raised. "You don't even care to tell us your master plan? You must have a reason for beguiling the heir of such a powerful object so you can steal it."

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise," Gilbert replied smugly. "Now, I _have_ heard, through my ways of knowing, that you are the mercenaries sent to stop me. You must have been through so much strife trying to track me down, and I'm flattered, but I must inform you that your efforts will come to be fruitless in the end. I know as much as to say you certainly _won't_ be rewarded for your efforts. My plans don't concern you, and neither does the welfare of Feliciano Vargas Roma. After all, if it's the spell you're so worked up about, you should know that I am the only one who can lift it from his mind—"

" _So freaking_ do _it! He's not your pawn! He's a kind, talented musician—"_

"Don't interrupt me if you don't want your bones turned to butter and your skin to salt! I have knowledge of curses that would make you scream from even hearing of them! Now, you know that I am the only one who can lift the spell from Feliciano's mind. As such, you are powerless against his resistance to your whims, and whether he fights or submits to the enchantment, it will overtake his will, and he will fetch that amulet and place it in my hands so that I may use it for my purposes! Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

"Perfectly," said Francis. "You just admitted you are to blame for Feliciano's beguiling, and that cannot be tolerated."

"I've already done it, pathetic human. How are you going to change that?"

"By making you take back your evil deed," Yao growled. "I was supposed to be relaxing away from my crazy family. Now it's too cold to enjoy myself. All your fault."

Arthur nodded. "Along those lines, I agree. I was on track to piece my life back together. Admittedly, in a patchwork disaster, but at least stitched in place. And suddenly, I'm thrown into a mission where I'm attacked for having pointy ears and have to do things that frankly might put me into a whole new world of trouble. All your fault."

"I am just here for fun time, really," Ivan said. "You are not having fun time, wizard. You try to hide how much you miss your brother. He is only one you truly love. You know you would languish in loneliness and die of broken spirit without him to support you. And now you wonder if he is even alive for you to hold again. What a shame it would be if he were lying pale and lifeless in freezing air."

Gilbert shivered. He tried not to let the demon's words get to him, but his creamy voice was so soothing, it was hard not to listen. Ludwig… oh, where was Ludwig? _Ludwig! Precious_ Tauschlein!

" _He's nervous. I think you're onto something, Ivan,"_ Alfred remarked.

"Onto nothing. Not even you can tell me where Ludwig is," Gilbert snarled. "Heartless creature of shadow and filth. You wear his shape around like a trophy. You don't even know how to properly use it. You _mock_ him. And if he's… gone… then you _mock his memory!"_

" _Pot calling the kettle black, much? And once again, I did_ not _kill your brother,"_ Alfred stressed. " _But I guess there's no way to tell on your end. You won't believe me. Maybe I should mock him a little more for you. May_ be it will get you to tell us some things. Maybe it will get you to give up your plans and free Feli's mind and leave. Him. Alone."

The face of Ludwig was so close that their noses touched. The icy eyes filled with Depth bored into him. _His perfectly human eyes. His perfectly starless, icy blue eyes. Mocked. Ruined. Ludwig… no. No, Gilbert! He's playing with you! Ludwig is not on your mind right now! Let Alfred play his game! You're not afraid!  
_

"Get out of my face," Gilbert said, his voice a low rumble. "Your tricks don't affect me. I know how your mind works. You're just feeding off my struggling."

"On the inside, you are in so much pain worrying about your brother—"

"Shut up, demonic _Arschloch!_ You have no idea what I'm capable of, and maybe you can see secrets, but you have no idea what I'm thinking inside my head. Didn't anyone ever teach you that peering inside another man's mind is rude!?"

"How about meddling in one?" Arthur asked.

"When you're a free spirit, no one can tell you anything," Gilbert snapped.

"Then what's to stop me from breaking this wand in half?" Alfred asked.

Gilbert looked. The man who looked like his brother held the dream wand in his hands, having taken it from the boot, and was poised to snap it in two before all of them.

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would, and I will."

Francis motioned for Alfred to put it back. "That wand belongs to neither of you."

"I'm sure Feli wouldn't care if the wand got snapped for his freedom. After all, he's told me the amulet will still work for him without it. Won't work for our friend here, though."

"It's still his heirloom, Alfred."

"It has bite marks in it, and I'm going to break it in half if iron-scarred, ugly-faced, brother-bereft wizard boy won't agree to lift the spell _and_ tell me his real name." Alfred tightened his grip on the wand. His great muscles quivered. It would be all too easy for the chance of Ludwig's salvation and Gilbert's revenge to be completely destroyed.

"Get out of his shape!" Gilbert commanded. "First, you must get out of his shape."

Alfred loosened his grip. "Get out of his shape, eh? Then what?"

"Then you must unbind me."

"And then what?"

"Then you'll get what you want."

"Sounds fishy. Ivan, is he hiding anything?"

The demon peered curiously at Gilbert. Gilbert glared back. _Go ahead. Look at my secrets. He'll get what he wants, won't he?_

"You will get what you want," Ivan said.

"What about Feli?" Alfred asked. "If I change my shape, he won't trust me anymore. You _have_ to keep your word and remove the spell. You've lost."

"You'll get what you're asking for," Gilbert snapped, putting a slight edge of desperation into his expression. Oh, yes, Alfred would get what he was asking for… just at a later date. "Just stop being him, and let me go. You'll get what you want."

A long bout of staring went between the two changelings. Gilbert could see the stubbornness he instilled in the boy, and he was sure Alfred was searching for something in him as well — some sense of sincerity, or at least true feelings of defeat. While those feelings really were prickling at Gilbert deep inside, he was also in control of them after so many years of practice. There was no _proof_ Ludwig was dead. There was only what he'd been told. And while the words hurt, he couldn't take them to heart. Not yet.

"All right," Alfred said, suspicion dribbling liberally from the words. He dropped the wand, and it rolled lifelessly across the floor.

He flexed his fingers a bit and clenched his hands a few times in preparation. Then, with a few gruesome _cracks,_ he began changing. The thick, firm bulges of muscle squeezed and melted from his frame. His legs and spine popped, and he was suddenly a few inches shorter. The sharp angles of his face softened and rounded, taking with them the coldness of his eyes, which became bright and clear like summer skies. The blond hair mussed itself, darkening to a shade of sunkissed gold, and the ears jerked up into points. His hands thinned and shrank a bit to become even with his arms, and he kicked one foot out to balance, signifying they had undergone a similar change. All the uncomfortable noises of shifting slowed and stopped, then, and Alfred peered strangely at himself and rubbed his hands along his new features as if this shape were completely alien.

He reached into a satchel leaning against the wall and took out a pair of wire-framed glasses, which he perched on his nose. The Depth was gone instantly. What a clever illusion, Gilbert thought. But he was even more shocked by how much Alfred's "normal" shape had changed, besides now sporting a pair of pointed ears and starlit eyes. He could be Ludwig's age physically, and while his face was still hopelessly dorky, he had gained an air of confidence about him that countered his awkwardness with ease. An almost heroic confidence.

"Is this better?" Alfred asked as he fiddled with his belt to tighten it. "I take this as my usual appearance. It's not Ludwig for you."

"Better," Gilbert agreed. "Now you must unbind me."

"Your real name?"

"Wilhelm," he said quickly. "It's Wilhelm. Wizard Wilhelm. Are you happy now? I won't change my shape. Feliciano needs someone to trust."

Alfred nodded slowly, his lips curling into a charming smile. "Wizard Wilhelm, I'm glad I could negotiate with you. Arts, you gonna unbind him?"

The magician looked skeptical. "Are you sure about this? What if he's lying? You do realize, being a changeling yourself, how clever he is."

Alfred hesitated. He glanced at Gilbert again, and for one moment, Gilbert let his emotions rise a little. _Ludwig… where are you?_ His brows lifted, and his cheeks tensed.

"Well, I think the wizard should be scared to try any funny business with us."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but he spread his fingers apart, and the twinkling veil wrapped around Gilbert's chest released. He stood up and wobbled a bit before Alfred grabbed his arm with one hand. In his other, he carried the wand.

"We're taking you to Feli now. I'm gonna give this to him as a token of peace once he's free."

"Now give me my flute and my boots, and I must take my things from my horse when we get there."

The odd party of all of them made their way through the street like a procession of heroes, thanks to Alfred's stupid, brisk pace. Gilbert struggled to keep up, even when Alfred slowed down so Arthur could keep up to him. (Something bad had happened in this town — something that made Alfred have to wear a capelet to hide his face and for the other blond boy to stick close to the one called Francis.) With the knight's glares and the guards' acceptance of their presence, no one was overly alarmed, though the demon's smile sent shivers through those they happened to pass.

Alfred puffed out his chest when they entered into Feliciano's inn. His smile had grown haughty, yet at the same time foolishly giddy. He looked down at the shining gold engraving of the laurel branch curling around the wand and gripped it with a profound sense of excitement.

 _You're not a hero yet, kid._

Alfred and the magician were the ones to escort him to the door where the fairy slept within. Alfred knocked.

"What? Who is it?" Came the voice from within. "Just waking up, sorry! Though… if you're a pretty girl—"

"It's me, Feliciano," Gilbert replied. "Let me in." Then to the others, "And just me. We wouldn't want him to be afraid, would we?

Alfred glowered. "Save it, loser. If you don't keep your word, you'll get your villain's end sooner than later."

Gilbert just smirked as he shoved Alfred out of the way to make way for the door. There stood Feliciano looking pleased to see his tutor again, though a bit worried.

"Herr Edelstein! Is Doggie not back yet? And where are the others? Lovi hasn't shown up? I-I was just about to go look for them myself, actually! I think as soon as we find each other, we should all have breakfast and go on to Allegria. I had this bad dream last night. I watched Doggie turn into Alfred. Then I woke up with a headache."

"Oh, you poor child," Gilbert cooed as he stepped in the room and pulled the door closed. "No, I haven't seen Ludwig nor your brother nor your other companion this morning."

"Why did you leave last night?"

"I went to make sure Ludwig was comfortable, of course. Just now I was taking my morning stroll."

"Will you be coming with us to Allegria?"

"I'm afraid I can't. I've still got urgent business here in Amotoile that must be attended to. But I do have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?"

"Yes! Will you open the window for me, please? It's not part of the surprise, but it will help make it more dramatic."

"Oh, okay!" Feliciano said as he went to open the window.

"Now you must close your eyes, plug your ears, and count to one hundred."

"This is an odd surprise, Herr Edelstein. Why do I need to—"

"Just do it, Feliciano," he bit.

But Feliciano was a little more skeptical than that. "I'm not sure I should. Can't you just tell me, please? Or show me? Or…" The fairy had picked up the pair of scissors from his nightstand.

" _Mein Gott,_ Feliciano! Why do you suspect such things!?"

Feliciano shivered. His movements slowed. "Your eyes…"

 _My eyes?_ Gilbert peered into the mirror on the wall. His eyes began itching, and their color was slowly melting to the dark hue of blood. _The potion is wearing off!? It's supposed to last for two days! It must have lost its potency after sitting so long! And Feli can see my Depth. Maybe not all of it, but enough to know I'm not Roderich!_

"What about my eyes?"

"They're getting darker! And t-turning _red!_ You aren't Herr Edelstein at all, are you!? You're some kind of shapeshifting creature… you're one of _them!_ Don't hurt me, please!" He shrieked while thrusting the scissors toward Gilbert. His body tensed and froze, then, his mouth hanging open in fright.

The door flung open, and Alfred threw himself inside. "You're hurting him!?" He accused, pointing a finger at Gilbert.

"I've done nothing of the sort. He's the one with the scissors pointed at me."

"Your eyes are changing," Alfred remarked. "They're turning red. Your little safeguard wearing off?"

"Perhaps it is. My eyes are red. So what?"

"The spell makes red static when it's poked. It's yours. Take the damn spell away. Take it back, break it, I don't know how you remove hypnosis, but just do it, okay? You're an evil creature. You're completely evil, you know that?"

"Take me as you will, Alfred. It's your choice," said Gilbert. Seeing no other alternative, he went for his first plan. He crossed his eyes and looked to see the tip of his nose had already turned a shiny silver. He felt his chest puff up under his shirt.

"You've seen how he's in pain because of your magic."

"Yes, I can _see_ that, but a little fairy charm won't make him convulse in anguish or foam at the mouth. It's a minor inconvenience, but I can't allow myself to pity him at the moment. There are some very important things I need that boy's amulet for."

"Selfish bastard!"

"Not selfish at all. I'm going to take my revenge, fellow dark one. Revenge on the man who cursed my brother and revenge on the one who cursed my life. Revenge on the murderers of the fairer folk! You think I was scary pretending to be the real Roderich? Well, he really exists! And he does want humanity to destroy us! A few bad men turned into birds won't hurt anyone, Alfred. They can't bear iron weapons or wear iron rings when their arms have been changed into soft little wings.

"Now, I will take that spell out of Feliciano's mind when his amulet has served its purpose for me. He will be free of my power in time. I didn't lie to you before. I simply twisted the truth of the matter."

" _You're_ twisted! Revenge won't help any of the fairer folk! We'll just look worse!"

"Who says it's we who did it? The dark wizard will take credit. I'm making Volkerburg safer."

"My changeling mentor told me people hurt us because they're afraid of us!"

"He didn't tell you that pain writes a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"Oh yeah? Well, he told me I could be anything in the world no matter what anyone thinks, and I'm gonna be a hero — Hey! You're changing! What are you turning into!?"

"My means of escape," Gilbert chuckled as inky feathers began to sprout from his skin. His teeth merged with his hardening golden lips and then melded with his nose. The silver-hooked beak tore through his sleeves to allow the feathery black wings room to grow.

"Eagle," Alfred accused. "You're turning into a black eagle. But why with… red eyes?"

Then Gilbert watched through his red eyes as Alfred's confidence began to drain. His whole heroic stance went limp where he stood, and his blue eyes darted from the ground to the shrinking wizard and back to the door where the magician stood confused.

But just as quickly, his impulses crackled within him. Alfred threw himself at the mostly-eagle creature and flung his arms around him, shouting his own mixture of confusion and anger. Gilbert let out a squeak at the bond suddenly tight around his chest. But when he had fully transformed, he had the weapons needed to best Alfred's strength. He dug the hook of his beak into the flesh of Alfred's forearm — not to rip and tear, but simply bite. Alfred yowled and loosened his grip. Gilbert beat his wings in the boy's face. Free of the bond, he flapped up to perch on the windowsill.

"Get him, Alfred!" Arthur barked.

Alfred ignored the blood running down his arm and lunged at the great bird. With an eagle's sneer, Gilbert leapt out the window and spread his wings. The magician threw out his arm, his hand glowing a vicious green, but Gilbert swerved out of his line of sight. He flapped above buildings before soaring away on the morning breeze.

 _It appears you got part of what you wanted, at least,_ he thought sourly. _Gah! The scars still hurt, and the featherless parts look ridiculous! I need a good meal and time to think. The eagle's shape should afford me both. Later I'll get my flute and the wand back. I'm sure they'll try to contain Feliciano somehow. No matter. They can't do anything about the fairy charm. I still have complete control of the situation._

 _And Ludwig… Luddy… I miss you so much.  
_

His thoughts were interrupted by a squeaky screech swelling on the wind behind him.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Tauschlein is a little nickname for a swap-child, not to be confused with Täuschlein, the changeling child.**


	56. Good vs Eagle

"Bloody hell, Alfred, what are you just standing there for!? He's getting away!"

"He's — I don't know if he's — but he might be—"

The magician grabbed the changeling's arms, digging his nails into the fabric of the shirt that was too loose for him. Through gritted teeth, he snarled, "The dark wizard we've been trying to find out about for _weeks_ and _months_ just transformed into an eagle and flew away. What do you _also_ have the power to do?"

Alfred jolted. "Transform, yeah! Into an eagle!" His eyes darted first to the window, then down at his hands. His urgency was cut short at the sight of where the wizard's beak had cut his left arm. "The bite hurts even when my arm is an _arm._ And I might be weak if I change shape again. All I had for breakfast was—"

"You had breakfast! He didn't! If anyone's going to be weak, it's him! Now transform already!"

"R-right! A hero's duty calls!"

As quickly as he could, he tore the shirt off over his head and used it to wipe off the blood from the cut. A loud _crick-crick_ already came from under his skin. He cursed as his hands bubbled with weakness, and his fingers started to merge.

"Uh, milord? The wings come first. Can you help with my belt?"

"You'll shrink out of your trousers, won't you?"

"Oh yeah."

"Just focus!"

"Sorry, it's just… he has red eyes…"

"You have dark pits of oblivion where your eyes should be!"

"No, you don't understand, I…" Alfred shook his head and deepened his concentration on the quickening changes. Luckily, they only felt warm and pleasant as usual, and he wasn't feeling weak yet. He supposed changing from Ludwig wouldn't have taken too much energy. Still, his body demanded fuel again, and the internal tug of his guts shifting didn't help.

"Hey!" Arthur spat. The other fairy rubbed at his head while slamming the door so no one could see in.

Alfred fought back a laugh and pulled back the new wing, continuing to drape feathers over his friend's face in the process. His shoulder blades shifted back, giving him more balance. A look in the mirror caused him to erupt in a gurgling twitter of amusement. He stood there, steadily growing smaller, with two great wings instead of arms, feathers cropping up and thickening over a swollen chest, and his glasses perched crookedly on his stretching nose.

"I'm good! It doesn't hurt! The bite pinches, but I'll still be able to fly!" He tried to affirm, but his voice was nothing more than a strangled squeak. Not long after, he finished shrinking, and the white tail feathers fanned out behind him. He clicked his beak, and the glasses slipped off to land in the pile of clothes.

Either Arthur somehow understood the garbled squawk, or he had just cracked an eye and seen the transformation was complete. He pointed with huge gestures at the window.

"Go after him! We'll take care of Feliciano. And when you find him, don't be trying to drag him back here. Put him to sleep and fly back to us in the eagle's shape."

The eagle bobbed his head in agreement, and Arthur's face twinged with disbelief. With a few test flaps, Alfred positioned himself on the window sill before leaping out after his adversary. (This was after hearing his friend mutter, "Good queen, the _bones,"_ before the unmistakable sound of retching.)

It didn't take long to spot the first eagle riding the wind far above with such powerful vision. The bald eagle sensed the rising updrafts and dipped his wings into the warming air. With a confident tilt of his head, he lifted into the sky, feeling lighter than he'd ever been. If he weren't chasing the dark wizard, perhaps he would've taken the chance to lose himself for a while and forget the struggles of his life on the ground. Forget emotions. Forget faces. Forget words. Forget everything he'd ever learned. Just forget the earth and become one with the wind and the sky. That sounded nice.

But being an eagle for stress-relief wasn't his purpose, and it would take time to forget who and what he really was. If he gave it thought, he realized how awkward the new shape felt when he'd spent so long as a heavy, solid-boned being. Now his wingspan was over twice the length of his body, and his beak was always in his line of sight.

But he had the benefit of being a pretty badass-looking bird.

Alfred fixed his golden gaze on the black eagle ahead of him. The other was flying much slower. A few black feathers fell as he flew, and he swerved aimlessly on the wind, twitching his ugly head this way and that. He was distressed. Hungry perhaps? Alfred would soon find out.

Alfred opened his beak and called out with a squeaky screech. A warm gust came up from beneath him, and he could see he was gaining much faster on the pathetic bird, whose shape couldn't have been healthy. The bald eagle watched as the other folded his wings a bit, then curved downward to circle below him. The black eagle twitched his foul head up to eye his pursuer. The bald eagle reciprocated. For one moment, they looked at each other in silence from different altitudes. Alfred still couldn't get over it.

 _He has red eyes. He's a black eagle with red eyes. Just like… no, that's impossible._

Then the black eagle screeched a warning. His voice was much fiercer than the bald's, and his ruby eyes shone in the sunlight. Still, the bald eagle felt no fear. He twittered in response before folding his wings and diving toward the challenger.

The challenger chose to flee.

With a flurry of black feathers, the black eagle dove for himself before flapping over a copse of trees. Alfred pursued, his wings beating so powerfully, the leaves beneath him swayed. He twittered at the other in a way that sounded like laughter — a heroic laughter mocking its villain. The black eagle replied with a screech that Alfred took to be cursing.

 _Why do you fly away!?_ he thought as he cackled. _Stay and fight! You're going to run out of energy soon anyway!_

The black eagle just continued to screech. His voice was heavy with weariness carelessly stifled by fury. In a flash, he dove again, this time to weave among trees. His black wings beat desperately to keep him airborne.

 _You're so disappointing! Come on, man! I'm hungry too, but we're s'posed to have our big battle now! Your brother was the obstacle, and you're the big boss!_

Seeing clearly his advantage over the other, Alfred flapped up above the treeline before spotting the black eagle perching on a branch to rest. What laziness! Such a villain was not cut out to even be a villain. Villains were meant to be strong. They were to make themselves appear impossible to defeat, and maniacally proud to boot. A villain should never be a pathetic, ailing target who had lost so many feathers he could qualify for bald.

Alfred tipped his beak down, and with the folding of his wings, he dove straight for where the black eagle was perched. He raked his talons forward and let out as frightening a screech as he could — which was still little more than a chirrup. The wind rushed through his feathers, overwhelming him in a surge of vitality unrivaled by the powers of any other shape. When he was close enough, he opened his wings and pushed his claws as far as he could to tear into the other bird.

Then the black eagle sidestepped on the branch to dodge the attack. With no target, the bald eagle continued to fall toward the ground. He opened his wings further and strained to lift himself. His whole form was shaky and awkward as he ascended. The black eagle laughed behind him.

Alfred cursed with a squeak and alighted on a branch facing his enemy. His golden glare bored into the red across the distance. The black eagle was _smirking._

Alfred puffed out his chest in response. He twittered a warning and lifted a taloned foot threateningly. The black eagle shook his head. He narrowed his red eyes and peered back at Alfred with that aquiline smirk plastered all over his face.

Alfred flinched.

 _I don't understand. I feel like you're trying to tell me something… and I have a bad feeling about what that something is._

Alfred twittered in confusion. He cocked his head to the side. Once again, the talons lifted. He fluffed his wings to prepare. Crossing the distance was all too simple. A fight was bound to come. Heck, Alfred wouldn't let this baddy escape without a fight.

But the black eagle made the first move. He fluttered his wings and descended less than gracefully to the forest floor, where the dirt was cool and moist from the morning dew. Alfred watched as the bird took a talon and began to scratch a message in the dirt. So he _did_ mean to say something. The bald eagle shifted anxiously on his perch. He gripped the branch tighter with his talons and focused on the words being written. He soon learned it was not a threat nor a statement, but a question.

 _DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?_

The black eagle looked up. He twitched his beak toward the question. Alfred's shifting grew even more anxious.

 _I think I do know who you are. But that doesn't make any sense. And anyway, you said your name is something else._

The bald eagle fluffed his wings in his version of a shrug. The black eagle clicked his beak in thought. Then he scratched out the words and wrote new ones below.

 _WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?_

 _You're…_ Alfred shook his head frantically. There was no way in hell! How could it possibly be who he thought is was!? _Gilbert?_ The dark wizard? How could he be a wizard? Gilbert hated disguises. No, no, no, Gilbert hated humans, and he liked birds, but not enough to want to turn humans into birds. Gilbert was good! Gilbert was a good changeling! This was just some other changeling who favored the shape of a red-eyed black eagle. But then why was that _smirk_ so damn familiar!?

Alfred screeched. He screeched at the sheer absurdity of the notion. He screeched at the black eagle who was being so damn confusing with his identity. He screeched at the fact that both of them were currently eagles and couldn't have a normal conversation. This would be the perfect time for the sweaty enemies to heave out their last insults before the all-out battle to the ultimate defeat!

The black eagle scratched out four more words, and the fire of truth was lit.

 _DOES IT HURT, KID?_

 _Kid? But…_ he _always called me that. So that means…_

Alfred didn't move. Not a feather twitched. Not a muscle tensed. The black eagle looked at him questioningly. He chirruped and pointed at the words with a talon. The black wings fluttered to get the other out of his stupor, but the bald eagle already had his complete and utter attention — _fascination_. The golden eyes focused on the black eagle's form — on the black feathers that drifted from the tousled wings and the matted down on his head and the eyes that sparkled with personality.

" _My favorite form to take is a huge black eagle with red eyes."_

" _An eagle!? Wow! I love being an eagle, too! Except a bald eagle! They're everywhere around here. I'llafta show you one! And I'llafta show you the lakes!"_

The black eagle smirked.

" _We're out of sugar tonight, so your job is to steal some from that house over there. It's too dangerous for me to hide so close, so I'll become a black eagle and supervise you from the trees. Do you understand?"_

" _Uh-huh!"_

And the bald eagle glared.

" _Gilbert! They saw that I burn! They're gonna come after me! I'm so scared!"_

" _Then don't cry, kid, or they'll hear you! What's our number one rule!?"_

" _D-don't show them you're afraid?"_

"Ja! _This same thing has happened to me, and did I lose my cool? Maybe the first time, but never again afterwards! Can you change into an eagle at will yet?"_

" _N-no."_

" _Ach, Alfred, I'll yell at you later. Right now, I'll transform and show you from the sky the right way to get out of this mess. Heighten your hearing and listen for my screeching, all right? A black eagle's screeching."_

" _Got it."_

The bald eagle bobbed his head in confirmation.

 _Yeah, I know who you are. I don't understand why, nor can I believe it, and I'm not sure whether it hurts or not, but you're… somehow… Gilbert._

The black eagle, Gilbert, pointed to his first question. Alfred nodded again, this time slower. He twittered in disbelief. His proud chest deflated a bit, and his harsh gaze faltered. Gilbert smirked once more before taking off and shooting into the sky.

Stunned for a moment, Alfred didn't even realize Gilbert had left until a single black feather drifted down and settled among the disturbed mud. He looked around wildly but couldn't see the vile bird anywhere. Peeved, he leapt off the branch and flapped high above the treeline. Now was not the time to get distracted. Sure, it was… Gilbert. But that could be possible, right? And no matter who it was, that bird was the dark wizard who beguiled Feliciano, and he had to be punished!

He found Gilbert again quickly — a silhouette riding the wind far out over the trees. Alfred gained altitude before going into a dive, bracing his wings for speed. The ground rushed at him. The scenery was blurred and shaky. Still, his instincts worked to show him every detail of his surroundings. _Warm air, cool air, wind, push out your wings, and back, steer right, steer left, and up!_

He lifted, his powerful chest giving him strength. He gained on the black eagle.

 _Flap, flap, faster, just a little faster! He dives! Fold! Beak down! Talons out! Call of a warrior!_

He screeched. The high pitch rang out clear on the deafening wind, and his talons raked flesh. The black eagle, who had not been fast enough to escape, screamed and struggled to flap higher. The bald eagle slashed again, beating his wings furiously and pushing the other down. Black feathers rained from his closed talons.

The black eagle, in a bold risk, turned in the air and beat his own wings. He thrust his beak forward, but the bald eagle blocked and pushed it away with his own, ripping black feathers out of Gilbert's neck in the process. He spat them out, but with not enough time. The black eagle's beak had come jabbing again — this time successfully clamping onto the left wing that was already weak. He bit down and pulled back.

Alfred tried to rip his wing away, but the black eagle had a firm grip. The silver hook dug into the small bit of flesh over the bone. It ripped too easily. The bald twittered in anguish while frantically flapping his other wing. Unfortunately, both eagles were already losing altitude, falling down through the sky toward the ground.

Alfred reached out with his talons and interlocked them with Gilbert's. Gilbert let go of the wing with great surprise. Alfred beat both of his in the black eagle's face, but a great pain stabbed through his injured wing, and handsome brown plumes drifted away on the wind. He realized in shock that though his enemy was weakening, and though he so desperately wished to end the battle victoriously, he possibly just lost his power of flight.

 _If my wing's busted, you're coming down with me, magic asshole,_ he thought as he twitter-screeched in the other's face and strengthened his grip on Gilbert's talons. Gilbert flapped mercilessly to keep himself up, but Alfred flapped much slower, and he weighed much more. Cuts opened on the black eagle's feet when he struggled to unclasp them from the bald's. He screamed and lashed out with his beak. Alfred pulled his head back. The ground rushed closer.

All of a sudden, the black eagle threw his weight forward. He swung over the bald eagle and down underneath. With interlocked talons, the two of them whirled in a frenzied spin while their wings were suspended and useless. Cold fear poured into Alfred's chest. Normally, he would find this exciting, but with the wind smacking his useless wing, he cried out for it to be over soon. His chirrupping sounded pathetically weak. Unheroic.

He saw green, brown, blue, green, brown, blue. The colors all blurred together into mud, and even his power of observance was failing him with so much motion all at once. The speed increased. Feathers both black and brown flew from the two of them. With all his strength, the bald eagle pulled his head up. The black eagle was smirking at him. Alfred's talons slipped.

Then Gilbert let go and spread his wings.

Alfred, disoriented, flew backwards. Before he could react, his body collided with a thick mat of leaves. A low bush had broken his fall. The sun glared in his eyes, but not before he saw the black eagle soaring high above. Gilbert wasn't flying victoriously; in fact, he looked just as distressed as before and appeared to be descending to somewhere far off in the distance.

 _I gotta go after him! If he's landing, I can catch him! But…_ Alfred let out a pained squeak. After coming to his senses, he hopped down from the bush to the ground and tried to lift his left wing. Pain jolted from the wound upward. The wing shuddered before he let it hang limply at his side. The other he gingerly tucked against his body safe and sound.

 _I definitely can't fly! It hurts too much! I — I should be able to fight through this sort of thing, but it's way too risky. I was lucky to have my fall broken this time. How am I s'posed to get anywhere? Maybe I can transform? But I don't have any clothes. And I'm_ really _not interested in changing with injuries after last time. If this thing grows into an arm, the wound'll rip more, and I'll just end up freakin' out._

He hobbled back and forth, trying to figure out the right course of action. His thoughts quickly melted into curses. Now that the rush of the fight was gone, his confusion and anger had returned fully, and his ignorance burned his mind as much as the wound throbbed in his wing.

 _Gilbert!? How!? Why!?_

It dawned on him with a fiery point how he'd invited Gilbert to Lafée in the first place, and Gilbert had replied with a smudged letter that reached him even though he was Ludwig. Had his invitation brought the dark wizard to their doorstep? But it was a completely innocent invitation! And why was _Gilbert_ of all people the one Alfred was hired to stop!? How was Gilbert this Ludwig character's brother? Gilbert hated humans! He had to be using Ludwig! But if Ludwig _knew_ of Gilbert's true nature…

 _I want answers!_ Alfred mentally pouted while twittering loudly and hobbling around with a persistent stride. _Damn you, Gilbert! Damn you! I trusted you! If this scheme is real, then what the hell!? Using dark magic to control someone!? How is this even_ your _scheme in the first place!? Since when are you a dark wizard!? Tell me!_

But Gilbert was not around to tell him, and so he sat in the form of an eagle pouting and hobbling while his injured wing hung achy and useless. He wished Arthur was there to heal it. It was hurting worse the more it dragged on the ground, but if he tried lifting it, the pain would burst again. He dared not look at where the feathers had grown sticky and wet.

So with a heavy heart, Alfred decided the only thing to do was wait until the wing healed enough for him to fly and meanwhile scavenge on the ground to strengthen him.

* * *

His hearing picked it up first — a high-pitched screeching. No, two distinct voices. One an ugly shriek and the other a twittery chirp.

 _Eagles,_ he thought, and at first, he paid the word no mind. Of course there were eagles. Eagles were common. Eagles lived around here. He'd seen plenty of them. But as the screeching came closer, he noticed how different it sounded. If he strained his ears, he could hear the eagles' screeching almost like… an argument? Like they were yelling at each other? And laughing…

"Gilbert?" Ludwig whispered under his breath. He wasn't sure why, but his brother's name popped into his head at the notion that an eagle was laughing. And sure enough, as he listened, he began to recognize that proud, mocking screech of his brother in the eagle's shape.

Ludwig's eyes snapped up at the sky. He swung his head around to see where the noise was coming from. The two eagles sounded close together. Could they be fighting physically? Who was Gilbert fighting with? A twittery chirp…

"Lovino, keep on the path. I thought I heard water. I'll fill up the canteens for us," he said quickly.

"We're almost to town, stupid human. You trying to poison me?" Lovino protested.

"Just keep going. I'll fill up my own," Ludwig replied, and before Lovino could speak again, he'd bolted off the path toward the direction of the sound.

Ludwig shoved through the thick brambles and low-lying bushes. This was stupid, he thought. It couldn't have been _Gilbert._ He was mistaking too many eagles for Gilbert these days — a sign of how much he really missed his brother. But this time he was sure he could hear the unique voice of the black eagle! And if he just followed it, he would see—

His jaw dropped. There, swerving as if drunk, was a black eagle with mussed feathers fluttering from a thin frame. His apparent adversary had vanished, and he swayed back and forth, coming closer and closer to the ground. Even from the distance, Ludwig could tell he was hurt.

He waved his arms in earnest to beckon the battered bird from the air. The eagle twitched his head down, seeming to eye the human. His body shuddered, and he let out a sad-sounding chirp before he continued on toward the ground.

Then the eagle twitched his head back again and stared directly at Ludwig's face. With no warning, he tucked his wings and dove at the man, talons outstretched. Ludwig instantly held up his hands to defend himself, but a muffled _thump_ caught his attention. The eagle had crashed at Ludwig's feet. He looked up into the man's face pathetically, and his eyes were a brilliant ruby-blood _red._

Ludwig bent down and gingerly touched the eagle's feathers. The eagle didn't try to bite or claw him. He simply hung his head low and let Ludwig pet him.

"Gilbert?" Ludwig asked. His voice cracked.

At even this, the eagle flapped his wings frantically. He screeched and dug into the ground with his talons. It took Ludwig a minute to realize he was growing. The feathers disappeared. The beak disappeared. The wings stretched into arms and the talons into feet. A gaunt, pale man who coughed and shuddered with weakness cowered before Ludwig. Bloody talon marks striped his lower back and feet. Burn scars painted his stomach.

"Gilbert!"

" _Was… was ist… das Geheimnis…"_ Gilbert whined in between raspy coughs.

" _Er ist ein Schmetterdämon!"_

Gilbert still trembled, but he slowly lifted his head and looked into his brother's face. Ludwig saw with a start that his blood-colored eyes were sparkling with tears. "L-luddy?" He whispered.

Ludwig nodded.

"Luddy, _Tauschlein,_ I thought…" Gilbert didn't finish the thought because now his arms were locked around Ludwig in the tightest hug he could muster, and he was outright sobbing.

" _Tauschlein!_ My precious little Ludwig! You're alive! It's a miracle!"

"Er, _Tauschlein?_ You haven't called me that since I was a child."

"You _are_ my _Tauschlein_ , Luddy! And I thought he killed you!" Gilbert wailed.

"Who killed me?"

"Oh, you wouldn't know! I've been such an awful brother! I haven't told you anything!"

"Now I'm just confused. But… brother, it's okay. I'm right here. No one killed me." Ludwig gently stroked the greasy white hair. Gilbert only squeezed tighter and buried his face into Ludwig's chest. His body was drenched with sweat.

"I love you so much," the changeling cried. "I'm never leaving you again. Not if I can't protect you from the evils of this world. You're not just my little brother. You're my light, Luddy. You're what gives me hope and and a reason to continue on. You're everything to me, and I thought he killed you!"

"Who? The mercenaries' changeling is the one who attacked me. Did you encounter him?"

Gilbert nodded. Ludwig flinched as the claw-like nails dug into his back.

"No, he didn't kill me. I have some scars, but nothing serious. Brother, calm down. This is very unlike you. There's no reason to be upset. I'm alive and well."

"Why didn't you answer my letter?"

"You never sent one. Only your bird. I was going to be cross with you, but I suppose now isn't a good time."

"But I _did_ send you a letter with the bird! I explained things in it! I told you to… oh, but he was you…"

"Who was me? Alfred? Did Alfred get the letter instead?"

"Alfred… "

 _"Ja,_ Alfred. He's the changeling you thought killed me. I _do_ know who he is."

"I know… I met him."

"Obviously. I heard your fight in the air. He goes in strong. Thinks of himself as some sort of hero."

"Lud, no… I met him… long… l-long…"

"Gilbert? Gilbert, stay with me!"

Gilbert's body had begun to go limp. His grip around Ludwig was weakening. His eyelids fluttered closed.

"Luddy, I had to escape them… I shouldn't have changed again… I used too much energy… "

"You think I'm dead and now you're going to die on me!? No way! Stay awake, Gilbert!"

Gilbert smirked through his tears. "Ludwig… do you really think I'd let myself die in your arms? My story… hasn't ended just yet. Let me rest, and have some food and clothes for me when I wake up. I need to be… stronger. There's a lot… we have to discuss. I have to tell you… "

"Tell me what?"

But Gilbert had fallen asleep with his arms still loosely clasped around his brother. Tears glistened on his pallid cheeks. Ludwig felt for a pulse along his neck and was relieved to feel one, albeit a slow one. Gilbert was simply healing, he assured himself.

But seeing his big brother so infirm frightened him.

He carefully unclasped the night cloak from around him and wrapped his brother in it before laying him down on his back in the shade. He took one corner and wiped the remnants of tears from his face. Funny, Ludwig thought. That had to have been what shocked him the most. Gilbert rarely cried. Or, he rarely let Ludwig see him cry, anyway. Only in his moments of greatest emotion — anger or fear — did Gilbert even let himself sniffle around him.

"You're with me now," he reassured the changeling. "Not the best place to reunite, but we reunited nonetheless, and it appears you needed it. We… we both needed it."

He very carefully turned Gilbert onto his side and used the remaining water in his canteen to clean out the fresh wounds. They were undoubtedly talon marks. Gilbert really had fought another eagle. The wand thief came to mind, but then he remembered why he had come this way in the first place. The mercenaries were here with Feliciano.

 _He fought Alfred in eagle form. But why would Alfred attack him? Did they learn of Gilbert's identity? Or did he appear as the dark wizard? Why would he do something so rash? And when we were so close… but if that's what happened, nothing can be helped right now._

 _Now, about getting you well again… food and clothes… I'll have to go back and get supplies._ Scheiße, _those other two… Gilbert will have to erase their memories later. What will I say now, though?_

He didn't have much time to think because a voice prickled behind him.

"You're doing something besides getting water if it's taking you this long, mundane."

"Doggie-san! That creature is dangerous!"

"What? What creature? What's he doing? He's… oh, you _are_ really that stupid, aren't you!? Get away from that monster!"

Ludwig slowly turned, feeling so lucky he wasn't the dog-man. Lovino and Kiku were a good distance away, but both had a clear view of the pitiful creature lying wrapped in the cloak. Lovino's wings quivered under his own cloak. His hands were up in front of him, and his fingertips were sparking.

"He's hurt," said Ludwig.

"How do you know it's hurt?" The fairy demanded of him. "You can't trust those things, dumbass! Get away from it!"

" _He_ is hurt because I saw the wounds. He was attacked. It's cruel to leave him without care."

 _Is this how Gilbert thinks? Make use of the situation._ Ja, _I found him like this. I don't know him._

"Doggie-san, you must be prudent. The changeling is probably scheming something. You do know what they are capable of."

"I'm perfectly aware of what they're capable of, and if this one wanted to attack me, he wouldn't be letting me clean his wounds and wrap him up while he sleeps. Now, bring some food. He'll be very hungry when he wakes up."

Lovino shuddered in discomfort and stepped back even further. "O-of course he'll be hungry," he sputtered. "He'll bite your whole damn hand off if you try to feed him! They're flesh-eaters! They have to drink blood to transform!"

"That's not how it works," Ludwig retorted with an icy glare.

"Oh yeah? My great uncle Luigino said _they_ need to eat at least the equivalent of a child per day! And you don't want your shape stolen!"

"They _don't_ eat people, Lovino, and if my shape is stolen, I'll simply have to catch him. I'm going to stay with this injured changeling until he's well enough to stand on his own, and there's nothing you can do about it. Call me rash or stupid, but I've gotten to know at least one, and I _know_ they're not evil creatures without hearts. I defended them when Feliciano feared them, and I'm not going to let this one die just because of some old superstitions."

"B-but! He's… he's ugly!"

"You have half a wing broken off and a perpetual scowl."

Ludwig knew that stung the fairy, but it was merely verbal revenge.

"Y-you have scars! On your face!"

"And Kiku is dead because of his own actions, and your brother is a coward. We're all flawed. Lovino, bring me our provisions. I want to have food right here for him. Clothes, too. He doesn't have any clothes."

"Do you believe this changeling could become your friend?" Kiku asked.

"No, nothing like that. I'm just helping him. I'll give him the clothes off my back that I still have after Alfred took them from me. Bring our provisions. Really. Or would you rather go into town and get some fresh food? I think he'd like that."

"I won't do that," Lovino snapped. "Not for one of _them."_

"And how do you know that if you don't help one of them, one of them won't come after you?"

"I've got wards, stupid human, and I can make plants grow by pointing at them. I'm perfectly fine!"

"Then why don't you come over and see that he really isn't as scary as you think?"

Lovino jumped. He bit his lip and gestured awkwardly. "What do you mean by that?"

"Come over and see him. I'm not saying I trust you to watch him, but come see that he isn't dangerous."

Lovino kept his distance, and Kiku, who was ignorant, but willing to follow the generally-accepted rules, also stayed back.

"Fine. Don't come over. But you're going to bring provisions."

"No!" The fairy shrieked. "Get them yourself!"

It was then when Lovino's shuddering caused the yellow bird nestled under his cloak to awaken. It poked its head out and peeped. Wanting to see what the commotion was about, it flew up to perch on Lovino's shoulder and nibbled on one of his pointed ears. It took note of Gilbert lying beneath Ludwig and flew to its master without time for Lovino to catch it.

" _Uccellino,_ no! That's not something to fly near! It will eat you!" Lovino scolded as he ran forth to rescue the bird. But this was his folly, as he found himself too near the creature he'd sworn not to get close to. Lovino simply stared at Gilbert. The bird just nestled into the crook of the changeling's armpit and puffed up its feathers for a continuation of its nap.

Ludwig pulled the leftover food from the bag on Lovino's shoulder and kept it close for when Gilbert awoke. He looked up at Lovino, who was now trembling feverishly at the sight of the changeling.

"N-no one knows if _they_ killed him, but..." he murmured, but cut himself off and turned quickly away. He brought a shaky hand to his forehead.

Ludwig wasn't going to aggravate his discomfort. "If you're afraid, then you're afraid. All I ask is that you let me help him. Bring me the rest of my things. You can go on to town and look for your brother if you want. Just bring me my things first. Please. I need to help him."

Lovino slowly gulped before nodding and backing away. He sprinted off back in the direction of the path. Within minutes, he returned, tossing Ludwig's traveling bag at his feet before disappearing again, most likely taking the opportunity to find his own beloved brother and forget everything he'd just seen.

"You are very brave," Kiku told Ludwig.

Ludwig shrugged. " _Ja."  
_

 _Brave because now it's my turn to protect you from harm._

* * *

 **~N~**

 **300K words and 8K views!  
This chapter is brought to you by "You Brightened up the Darkness" by Maggie Reilly.  
**


	57. Spoiled Spells

"He does _not_ want to hear about your curtains!"

Sir Francis clicked his tongue. "It is a perfectly reasonable topic of discussion. I was just pointing out how the curtains in this room are so drab. They're more like tablecloths hanging pitifully from the rod than anything resembling respectable curtains. You must remember the delightful curtains in my drawing room. The blue cloth with satin accents drawn just enough so the sun can peek through from the eastern side? Jeanne picked the ribbons—"

"Not everyone can know as much as you do about something so utterly pointless as curtains. All you're doing is boasting about nothing. You're puffing yourself up like you always do. That's not the way to make someone feel welcome."

"And how would you do it, Arthur?" Francis asked with an arrogant edge in his voice.

Arthur scowled and took the cream cup by the handle. "By asking how much cream and sugar he would like."

Then he turned to Feliciano, who was sitting with the Mercs at a round table in the inn's quaint tea room. The tea was hot, Francis' sandwiches were divine, and Arthur's biscuits were singed just enough to be inedible.

"How much cream and sugar would you like, Feliciano?" He asked in his sweetest voice. The others around him shouldn't have looked so surprised. After all, he had been raised to be a gentleman and had years of practice in the art of decorum, especially at the tea table.

"I…" Feliciano squeaked. He didn't lift his eyes from his lap, and his complexion was still very pale. After all, the notion of seeing red eyes on one's old tutor, freezing into senselessness, and awakening at afternoon teatime is shocking enough without one's frequent kidnapper asking about cream and sugar.

"You see?" Francis continued. "What we need is an easy little conversation to break the ice."

"Well, it can concern something other than curtains. Feli, I'll just leave the cream and sugar here. Take as much as you like. And do try my biscuits! I improvised since I couldn't remember the recipe, but I've already tasted one, and they truly are splendid."

Francis wrinkled his nose at this comment. The odor of burnt, floury dough hung in the air and was satisfied only when Arthur would eat another of those repellent creations. This embarrassment of a culinary improvisation certainly wasn't helping to warm the ties between the Mercs and their guest. Even if he was eating them for politeness, he still rendered himself an ass.

Their attention had been turned immediately to Feliciano after the eagles had both flown off, (and Arthur had affirmed to the others he was _not_ about to throw up in disgust from witnessing the distasteful transformations.) After much debate, it was decided the best course of action was not to try reasoning with Feliciano, as that would inevitably fail, and instead try to make him feel welcome and respected while they waited for Alfred to return. Of course, they didn't tell Feliciano they were waiting for Alfred. They hadn't told him much at this point other than it was teatime, and they were not going to trap him in a bubble with inadequate wine. For the moment, it seemed to be working, though they could all tell Feliciano was on edge.

"I am having little trouble," Ivan piped up.

Arthur pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the demon. Ivan had tried to hold his teacup like the others, but his huge fingers had snapped the porcelain handle clean off, and tea was soaking through the tablecloth. He nervously reached for another teacup, but when his hand met the spilled tea, the wet fabric seized and crystallized into a brittle shell over the table. The demon pulled back both of his hands and set them in his lap, his face muddled in embarrassment and his fuzzy ears drooping.

"You could drink out of the teapot," Yao suggested.

"He cannot drink out of the teapot," Arthur snapped. "Then we wouldn't have our water. Just try not to freeze the sandwiches, and… Brilliant, now my cup is stuck to the table. I apologize, Feliciano. We truly are trying to accommodate you with kindness. I realize how the last few times we've met, we've appeared most disagreeable. If anything can further remedy our relationship, please let us know."

"Please let me go," Feliciano whimpered.

"What was that, love?"

"Let me go. You can't make me listen to you. I'm not going to be your friend, and that's saying a lot when I'm as friendly as I am. If you did something to my friends, I swear they'll come back for me, and I swear I'll never take the blindfold off again. I'll give up all the colors in the world to be at home in Allegria with my real friends and far away from you. You _and_ your changelings with red eyes."

"That wasn't—" Francis started, but Arthur shook his head.

"We don't want to reason with you, Feliciano. We simply want to enjoy an afternoon putting our differences aside. A truce, if you will, just for today. It will do you no good to stress. Now, you haven't eaten anything. You must be hungry."

At this, Feliciano's stomach rumbled, but he crossed his arms on the table and lay his head in them so they couldn't see his blush.

 _The boy's beguiled beyond all sense,_ Arthur thought with a frown. At least Feliciano wasn't trying to run away. But in time, things would get trickier. "Doggie" wouldn't return. An eagle with a curious feather sticking up from his head _would_ return. Then they'd have to make Feliciano go to the dark wizard he didn't believe existed.

"You poor thing," Francis cooed. He reached out and stroked one of Feliciano's hands. The latter tensed and pulled back. "We are just having tea. There will be no fighting today. Try to relax."

Feliciano's trembling only resumed. His wings raised slightly as if urging him to throw himself out of the chair and away from these people. But Arthur knew what he was thinking. Trying to run away would only get him bound and gagged again, and then he'd be waiting for Alfred to appear and freeze him up.

 _Will he even trust us after the spell is lifted?_ Arthur thought to himself. _If we'd only tried having tea with him before, maybe he wouldn't be nearly as anxious. It seems we've forgotten we're supposed to be his friends. He's only ever been frightened of us._

Arthur sighed. What to do? Feliciano wouldn't even look at them… look at them…

"Feliciano, if I lift the spell on your eyes, will you accept the truce?"

"Lift the spell?" Feliciano asked. He slowly lifted his head, but flinched when he caught sight of Arthur. "You're tricking me."

"I'm not tricking you. I'll lift it. Give me your hands."

"What about the spell that makes me freeze? Will you…"

"That isn't my spell to lift, but I can do my part," Arthur said in a voice like silk. He offered forth his hands over the table.

Feliciano eyed them suspiciously. He looked Arthur up and down, then glanced toward the door. His wings twitched, and he slumped forward a bit. Then he reached both trembling hands forward and took hold of Arthur's. The magician flinched. Feliciano's hands were clammy with sweat.

Of course, there was no real spell, but Arthur quickly came to a solution. He channeled energy into both palms and twisted it into his heat spell. His hands grew uncomfortably hot at first, but he held onto Feli's and brought the heat down to a bearable level.

" _I will no longer see what Feliciano Vargas Roma sees,"_ he chanted. Then he released the other's hands. Feliciano pulled them back as if they'd been electrified. Then, very carefully, he reached out and took a sandwich from the tray. He bit into it. Apparently tasting no poison, he finished it off quickly and reached for another.

"Do you really like them, Feliciano? I made them using the recipe my mother once used for me!" Francis gushed.

Feliciano nodded. "They're good. But I'm not your friend. You're liars, and I can't trust you. I'm just hungry." A red haze filled his amber-gold eyes for a moment before he took his teacup and filled it halfway with cream.

* * *

 _It's cruel to leave him without care. It's cruel… to leave him without care. It's cruel to leave him._

This was the only phrase that filled his head as he ran faster and faster away from Ludwig and the changeling. Lovino gasped for breath and wished just for a moment that he could fly. His limbs were so heavy, and his wings were so light, and there was a wonderful breeze blowing today. Split black feathers drifted down from the sky and settled ever so softly in the grass.

"Such a nice day for birds," he huffed, but his thoughts kept bringing him back to Ludwig kneeling over that creature with such an uncharacteristic softness in his face. He saw Ludwig bend down and fix the night cloak so the creature was comfortably wrapped in it. He saw Ludwig take the food and hold it close at hand. He saw himself hesitate before pivoting on his feet and running back to fetch the rest of Ludwig's belongings.

But at the same time, he couldn't remember any hesitation, as if that detail were only an ugly daydream quilted over in his memory with red silk and golden thread. Red and gold. Yes, he remembered those colors. He saw them in his mind whenever he became suspicious of the human. Red was for anger and gold was for pride. Isn't that what those colors meant? But… he couldn't have felt those things. Wasn't he accepting of the human? Wasn't the human a good person? Wasn't it good to help changelings? Wasn't he fine with Roma's treasure being passed on to a stranger and a monster?

But of course all of those things were true. He needn't ponder such trivial matters.

Lovino stopped running and traced his fingers along his forehead. He swore a tight, pulsing pain had come over him for a moment, but now it was simply a faded, illusory memory of pain. "I'm losing my mind," he growled. "The quest, the wand, Felice, Doggie, my wing… I can't even think straight anymore. It's like someone screwed with my head. Like someone…"

He couldn't finish the last phrase. Beguiled? What foolishness! He hadn't any memories of _anyone_ beguiling him. Lovino was far too careful to let anything of that sort happen. When he'd been just two, his father had a pair of scissors made for him. They were shaped curiously like garden shears and magically engraved with hundreds of tiny gold grape leaves that blew in the wind if he squinted at them. He never let the scissors leave his side and always placed them near his bed.

Even now, years and years after _something_ killed his father, he kept the scissors close to ward off darkness and deceit. _No one_ messed with the Roma family. _Nothing_ screwed with their minds or controlled their hearts or twisted their wills.

Except for whatever had happened to Feliciano.

" _They_ are evil. _They_ turned him to stone. I know it," he murmured. There came a dull, throbbing uncertainty from deep inside his imagination, and he felt a curious weakness in his chest. He kneaded his temples. "But… that stupid human… is not bad. The mercenaries… are the real problem."

He took the scissors from their loop on his belt and held the closed blades in both hands, then pulled the handles to his heart. He took some deep breaths. Everything was fine. He wasn't beguiled. There wasn't anything funny going on. Not at all. It was cruel to leave a changeling hurt. Doggie was a good guy. Feliciano was giving him his inheritance. All these were true.

Thinking about it any more just made things more confusing. He managed to keep his mind blank until he reached town and showed his beloved scissors to the guards. Now was the time to look for Feliciano. Feliciano needed him.

"Felice is here apparently, and I'm going to be the one to rescue him if that mundane is so preoccupied with worthless shadow-freaks. Lafée, eh? Good thing I know this place. Finding my brother should be simple. And if there are mercenaries to deal with, I'll just have to give them the same thing I gave everyone at Straffino. Eh? Oh, _ciao, bella!_ Want to see some magic?"

* * *

Even though Francis had successfully sucked Feliciano into a shallow, awkward conversation about curtains and bathroom furnishings, Arthur had more important things to worry about. At the moment, he was out in the hall trying to understand what Matthew was saying.

It was a trick he'd used back at Yaits after discovering the classrooms had no clocks on the walls to encourage focus during class. Take two small mirrors and enchant them to be twin scrying glasses. Set the first mirror up in front of a clock somewhere else, and when you want the time, simply look into the second mirror and see what the first mirror reflects.

He'd taken Alfred's pocket mirrors and enchanted them before giving one to Matthew. Obviously, with the spell, the poor boy couldn't be around Feliciano, so in a risky move, Arthur had sent him off after Alfred in case his aquiline mission went terribly wrong. As of this moment, Matthew's reflection in Arthur's mirror was looking a bit stressed. He was saying something, but the enchantment wasn't complex enough to allow sound through the mirrors.

"Slow down," he said.

Matthew understood and stopped shaking his mirror so much. He then shifted the reflection to his hand. He held a feather — a long brown plume from the wing of an eagle. Matthew pointed with his thumb to the quill. The base was caked with something dark.

"Blood?" Arthur asked.

Matthew brought the reflection up to his face. "I think so," he seemed to say. "I can't find him or any blood on the ground."

"Don't fret. He can look after himself."

Matthew just shook his head worriedly.

"Keep looking. If you find him injured somewhere, let me know. He hasn't been gone long enough to cause us alarm." Arthur had to repeat it a few times in smaller parts for Matthew to understand, but he nodded and gave a small smile back at the fairy.

"I hope he hasn't gotten himself into a mess again. We're in a tight situation as it is right now," Arthur whispered to himself.

He poked his head back into the room and scowled.

"No one has touched my biscuits except for me! You're all only gorging yourselves on Francis' sandwiches!"

"I tried one," Ivan said, raising his hand.

"To prove that only demons can bite through rocks," Yao muttered.

"And what did you think of them, Ivan?" Arthur asked hopefully.

Ivan, as always, was far too honest. "I thought that if you were little earth demon who served me in my castle, I would have you thrown in ice dungeon for three days to teach you lesson. Unlike regular dungeon, ice dungeon is completely made of nevermelting ice enchanted to be even colder than the stars. My own design. Even fire demons cannot warm it up. Their fiery breath will freeze when it hits the air. And then they will freeze, too."

The air around them grew a few degrees cooler. Frost crawled down the legs of the demon's chair. Feliciano shrank where he sat and began to whimper again.

Arthur grew defensive. "You'd throw me into a deathly cold dungeon over a Kirkland classic? There's nothing wrong with them! Maybe I didn't have the recipe on hand, but they were based on my mum's biscuits, and no one insults the House of Kirkland's baking!"

"Except for those whose taste buds haven't been blighted," Francis remarked.

"Oh, you shut it! You haven't even tried one!"

"I don't need to when the stench of smoldering flour is hanging so near. _Mon cher,_ why would you do such a thing wasting precious ingredients? Baking is an art just like magic!"

"Baking is like magic? So if I bake one foul batch of biscuits, (which I haven't, and I never will,) just tasting them would flood my body with a monstrous energy powerful enough to tear me apart from the inside? You don't know a damn thing about magic! It's more dangerous than you could ever imagine, and you equate it to your silly baking!"

"It depends on passion. If you cared as much about not making poison biscuits as you do about not making exploding biscuits, perhaps you would have created something we could all enjoy. But it seems you're more interested in looking like a buffoon trying to defend such a disappointment than humbling your pretentious ears and—"

"Did you _dare_ just bring up my ears!? My good queen, you're like the rest of them, aren't you? First you insult my cuisine, and _now_ you bring up my ears! Am I really that much of an arse to you!? A glittery merrymaker with a lithe frame and pointed ears? Do you imagine me prancing through the bluebells picking toadstools?"

"Well, if you're going to indulge me so, fair sprite, why don't you wear nothing but a tunic fashioned out of spider silk while getting so full up on elderberry wine you can't even find the strength to pick up your sparkly pixie wand?"

"Of course! I'll imbibe only to forget your wretched appearance after I've already used that sparkly wand to make your outlandishly huge feet grow into even larger donkey hooves! I'll even change your ugly ears to match! We forest folk will all have a good laugh at that! Ha-ha!"

"I think you've forgotten who's _really_ the—"

"Obviously it's the hairy _human!"_

At this exclamation, three things happened: Arthur's palm shot a bolt of emerald static that struck Francis in the forehead, the tea table completely frosted over, and Feliciano zipped from his seat out the door.

"He escaped! You ass!" Yao yelled.

"I just said that I'm not… Oh, shite! He did escape! After him! Francis! Francis? Damn! I hexed him by mistake! He's out cold! Not that he didn't deserve it."

"You are both children! Let it go! Feliciano got away again, and no one is here to freeze him! You have to use your magic binding!"

"Right," Arthur replied weakly. With a worried glance, he left Francis slumped in his chair at the frozen table.

* * *

"Ah, yes, I'm looking for my brother. Don't get your hopes up; he's not nearly as handsome as me. He doesn't even work out in the sun, and he wouldn't know an oleander from an orchid. And speaking of sun, would you like to hear about ideal growing conditions?"

As much as Lovino was determined to find Feliciano, being surrounded by ladies worked wonders to clear his mind of whatever that throbbing confusion was earlier. Now, if only he could get his arm around one of them, perhaps he could… no, wait… what was that?

Lovino was beneath an awning sipping a glass of Allegrian wine while the ladies chose to engage with him or simply speculate, but when he glanced across the street, a harsh glare caught his eye for a second. The instant he saw it, there was no doubt. Nothing in the world could be that bright unless it was magic. It was the flashing of fairy dust — the golden dust of his brother's wings.

"Wow, look at his wings!" One of the girls said as she pulled on Lovino's sleeve. "Are yours like that? They're so pretty! He must be a powerful fairy!"

"Take off this drab cloak, Lovi. Yours must be pretty, too!"

"That one over there is so cute! The curl in his hair and the curl on the tips of his wings match! I wish I could have wings, too!"

"Hey, that's my brother you're talking about," Lovino cut in, "and he's dumber than a dried bulb."

"Aw, but he looks scared!"

"Can I touch your chest, Lovino?"

"Look! Lovi's wings are like shimmery pond water!"

"Hey! Hey! Put my cloak down! You can't see my wings! It's none of your business what color they are or how much they sparkle in the light! Now, about that other flashy guy… Feliciano!"

Lovino slammed his glass of wine down, pushed his way through the hopeful ladies, and dashed to the other fairy, who was indeed quivering with fear. Feliciano didn't even recognize him at first. His hands were deep in his pockets, and he was muttering.

"Hey, stupid! You should be happy I found you! My back has been aching for days! And you know what that human's doing now!? He's… you know what? I don't want to talk about it. Come with me."

"Lovi! You came back!"

"Eh, you noticed!"

Feliciano's eyes widened. "Lovi, get down."

"Get down? Hey!"

His brother pulled him back around the building and behind a stack of barrels that smelled like sour, Amotoile-made wine. Both of them squatted down. The younger was trembling worse than ever.

"I ran away from the mercenaries. They found me because I took the blindfold off. I don't know where Doggie is, and I know they're coming after me soon. We have to get out of here."

"What about a blindfold?"

"The blindfold. You know, the one I've been wearing for days and days? I took it off, and now the mercenaries are here."

"They've been here the whole time, you idiot!"

"N-no, they just got here this morning."

"Felice, when was the last time you saw me?"

"I haven't _seen_ you for a long time—"

"When was the last time you heard my voice?"

"Yesterday before you stormed off all angry."

Lovino pulled his brother close by the shoulders and stared into his frightened little face. His grip was strong. "That wasn't me. That was the _imp._ He disguised himself as the mundane and mimicked my voice."

"What? No! That _was_ the real Doggie! He knew our secret sign! You're lying!"

Lovino took his scissors and gripped them hard in front of Feli's face. "Not a dark creature. Not lying. You were tricked."

"No! He never deceives me! Liar!"

"Feliciano, look at me! That wasn't the real one! Look at me!"

The younger fairy squirmed in his grip. Lovino dug his nails into Feliciano's shoulders, and Feliciano began whimpering loudly.

"Shut up! If they're after you, they'll find you with that much whining!"

"No! Get off! I don't trust you! You're probably working with them!"

Lovino's blood ran cold. His body stiffened for a second. He squeezed one arm around Feliciano and forced his other hand over his mouth, though his brother still whined in his throat. Then he saw the dark red haze clouding his brother's eyes as he struggled.

"Dark magic," Lovino breathed. "I can't believe it. There really is an enchantment. I always knew there was something strange about your loyalty, but…"

A dull pain pulsed in Lovino's head. It was as if his memories of suspicion were smothered out by a murky sheet until they were too smeared and distorted to be real. There was no reason to be suspicious about the real Ludwig. Lovino brought himself to a simpler conclusion.

"But of course the hideous shadow-freak put this on you so you'd only be loyal to him in Ludwig's form. Felice, listen to me! You have to calm down."

Feliciano shook his head. His wings lifted, but Lovino shoved him to the ground and held one of the delicate appendages firm and unmoving.

"I'll pull," Lovino threatened.

"Don't pull!" Feliciano cried. "Don't pull it! They're sensitive! Leave me alone! You're a liar! Doggie will come back for me!"

"Stupid idiot of a brother! If I bring you to the real Doggie, will you quit your whining? I'll bring you to your precious Doggie! Then you can hug him and suck up to him all you want! All you have to do is trust me! Do you trust your own brother?"

"I… I don't know! I just feel so _odd!"_

"You're beguiled or cursed or something, and as your big brother, I won't let you hurt yourself. Whether you trust me or not, you're coming with me back to the mundane, whom I… definitely trust. Yeah, I definitely trust him. The mercenaries are the real problem, Felice. Don't you understand?"

Feliciano, finally hearing something he agreed with, turned back to look at his brother. He nodded and blinked with watery eyes. "I understand."

"Good. Now take my hand."

Lovino let go of the wing and wiped glittery gold dust on his pants. Feliciano reached one trembling hand back. His eyes were clearer and brighter now. A few tears had leaked onto his cheeks. Gently, Lovino took his brother's hand and helped him to his feet. His knees wobbled from nervousness, but he gave a brave smile and tightened his grip.

 _CLANG._

"Lovi? _Lovi!"_

* * *

"What was that!? Did he use a spell? Yao? _Yao!"_

"What? Are you not going to help?" Yao cut. He was standing in the corner of a small area boxed in by stacked barrels holding a struggling Feliciano's wrists together behind his folded-down wings. He'd managed to tie the handkerchief around the fairy's mouth, but Feliciano kept producing panicked whines that were much too loud for their surroundings.

In front of Arthur, near the entrance of the barrel corner, was a man lying on the ground unconscious. A trickle of blood ran from his forehead down his face to the dirty cobblestone. His cloak was wrinkled around him, and one of his hands was still curled up as if clutching another.

"Good Titania, that's Feliciano's brother!"

"I know!" Yao snapped. "I realized that after I hit him with my wok!"

"You hit him with your wok? I thought you knew about pressure points that could knock people out!"

"The man had pointy ears! I don't think the pressure points are in the same places as on a human! Honest mistake! Now will you bind this one or something? He's wiggling too much!"

"I can, but you have to knock him out as well. There's no point in keeping him frightened."

As quickly as he said it, but with bitterness and frustration over the loss of the tea party's amity, the deed was done.

"So that's two more we have to deal with," Yao sighed. "And Alfred is unaccounted for as of yet?"

"Matthew found a feather with blood on the quill, but to me, that only means Alfred was fighting. Typical of him."

"And Francis?"

"I put a privacy spell on the door of that tea room. There's absolutely no way anyone can open the door from the outside and see the mess we've made. Or see Francis. Luckily, the hex I threw wasn't strong. He may find himself a bit shaggier when he wakes up, but that's an easy fix. Ivan's standing guard, too. I told him to tell anyone who wants in there's a very important meeting going on between some exhausted and irritated mercenaries."

"So what do we do with these two? Both out cold and one of them bleeding?"

"I can mend the bleeding. Let's set them up next to each other. I'll check their magical vitals. I do remember Alfred saying that Lovino seemed odd. It would be prudent to see if there's any foreign energy in his system. But first things first, I'll need you to hold still."

Arthur pulled himself up as straight as he could. He threw both of his arms out to the sides and outstretched his fingers. After taking a few very deep breaths, he concentrated his energy, pulling and squeezing and twisting and contorting it into an organized chaos of spellwork. He connected it to the air and the barrels and the ground beneath them and stirred it until his fingers brushed up against the texture of a tight, dense bubble formed around the enclosure.

"Sacrelian World Wall. Feliciano's whined enough as it is already, and we don't need anyone running over here. With this wall, no one will be able to see us, hear us, or enter our little area. The inverse works as well."

"Good thinking. Now do your magician thing."

Arthur checked Feliciano's vitals just as he'd been doing most nights since Alfred had come worried. He furrowed his monstrous brows in conflict. There were more tears than ever in the red fabric of the spell, but they were still mere pinpricks that were already scarring over. The spell had grown defensive. It had learned the victim's tendencies and learned ways to fight back when provoked. The spell was ugly now — a simple fairy charm turned into something dangerous.

The spell was spoiled. Very spoiled.

He attempted then to connect his magic with Feliciano's bright yellow pulse, but the tendrils of the spell were like fragile vines curling dangerously close to the source of Feli's power, and every time Arthur tried to push through them, they shocked his fingers and caused the boy to yelp in pain.

He withdrew and shook his head. His heart felt heavy. He'd never seen a case like this. Curses, yes. Advanced hexes, yes. (Of course, these were nothing of the curses and hexes that real magicians saw before the ban, but he'd nevertheless seen some pretty gruesome enchantments during his career.) _This,_ however, was a frightening spell.

"There's nothing I can do for him without endangering his life," he said weakly. "The only thing we can do is wait for the dark wizard to remove it. I suggest we let him sleep."

He then turned his attention to Lovino. After healing the cut, Arthur placed his hand on the older fairy's chest and entered with his magic. Lovino's _kentron_ was in his chest, as per usual. It was a glowing olive green that was warm when he pressed near it. Arthur couldn't feel any obstructions so far. It seemed Lovino was in much better health than his brother.

Until he felt the same energy that held Feliciano captive festering inside him.

Shocked, Arthur moved his hands to Lovino's head. The energy was stretched completely around his subconscious. The magician very delicately pressed in on the red silk of the spell that was ever so thin yet ever so harmful.

Just the same, he ended up with burned fingers and a fairy who gave a sharp squeak of pain. Arthur watched as the little curls of static crawled up his fingers. They were a sparkling blood red, and was that… the tiniest glitter of gold?

It must have been a trick of the light. He'd gone deep into Lovino's energies, and nothing had been _gold._ There was only a proud green and an angry red. But just to check again, he again pressed right into Lovino's mind and gently pricked the spell.

This time he withdrew with smoking fingers, a screech from Lovino, and red static that if he looked very, very carefully, was threaded through with the finest, thinnest threads of gold.

"Stop hurting him!" Yao commanded.

"I'm finished now. It was foolish to look again."

"What did you see?"

"I saw what I needed to see. Both of these fairies are beguiled."


	58. Noble Wickedness

Night had fallen.

Five men garbed to blend into the darkness walked single-file down a forest path. The sky was moonless, and the windless silence kept every tree unchanging. Their footsteps were in unison — one urgent cadence signifying absolute seriousness. Each man had his eyes glued only to the head in front of him, and they trod over every bug, rock, and shoot in their way. Their breathing was even. Their mission was dire.

Yet when they broke through the leafy gloom and emerged into a clearing, it was easy for their shoulders to relax and their rhythmic breathing to diverge. They had done this plenty of times before. It was a twisted routine they could neither like nor dislike, and its frequency had only been growing.

While they went through the motions of preparing, tensions began to rise among them. It was only a matter of time before one worked up the courage to speak. There were no written rules on the matter, but it came as a surprise when the solemn routine was broken.

"Is this the third time for that boy?" Asked the youngest of them.

"We don't question that family. Shut up and do your work. It'll all be over soon."

"I'm just saying it's been the third time. Is it that the boy attracts too much attention or that his parents don't like him?"

"We do not question them," the second voice growled. "Lord Edelstein gave us his signature. We do our job and forget what happened."

"It isn't that his parents don't like him," said a third. "It's that his governess can't stand him. She makes up any excuse she can to not be around him. I heard it straight from Edelweiss' servants. She was supposed to be supervising the boy while he walked in the garden. Her story is that she ran to get a dry pair of shoes for him because of puddles left over from the storm. The thing was already in his shape and beating him senseless by the time she got back. His face was covered in blood."

"We do not speak of these things! Just do your work!"

The men were silenced and returned to their solemn duties. A white bundle was carefully placed in the center of the clearing, and a mixture of salt, dried herbs, iron shavings and mysterious powders was poured around it in the perfect shape of a glittering star within a circle. The men removed bows from straps on their backs and notched arrows with sharp, shining heads. Each of them positioned himself at one of the star's points.

"Aim true, gentlemen. May evil perish this night."

The men pulled back their arrows, aiming for the bundle.

Then the bundle screamed.

The archers jumped back. The bundle was screaming and thrashing about in the center of the pentagram. Fearful cries and incomprehensible phrases came from beneath the fabric. Then the fabric began to tear on one side.

"It woke up!"

"It must have spit out the sedative!"

"It's escaping!"

"Just shoot it, men! Shoot it!"

The fabric ripped wider. Spidery fingers poked out of the hole and tore open the bundle. A hideous skull of a face pushed out, and the toddler-sized creature, wrapped in cloth yet still deathly slim, fully wriggled free. Its shrieking was deafening now, and it cried even louder when it saw the iron-tipped arrows aimed straight at its chest.

"Shoot it!"

The creature threw itself at the barrier created by the pentagram, but it could get no further than the pentagon in the center of the star. Its claw-like nails scraped into the dirt after it tripped on the discarded fabric of the bundle.

"It's trapped. We could leave it—"

"There's only one way to do this, and that's to fill its heartless void with iron! Aim and shoot! All at the same time! Aim and shoot!"

Cautiously, the archers aimed their arrows again. The creature shuddered and screamed with fear, its voice sounding more inhuman by the second. The cries morphed into something of an earthy, echoey wail that stirred up its own wind. The trees whipped their branches, and the archers almost lost their footing in the gale.

Still, they continued to hold their arrows. Grips on the feathers weakened. Eyes were locked on the creature's bony chest beneath the cloth, but the screams were haunting, and the conjured wind was howling. Anything would be better than the noise. Anything.

Then a different sound did come. It was a melodious sound from the forest surrounding the clearing. A light, peppy, airy sound.

"Someone's playing the flute!"

"Pay attention and shoot the damn thing before its magic blows us all to hell!"

"I hear it, too! Who's playing at this time of night in this part of the woods?"

Then a dark shape drifted out of the trees. The men turned and watched dumbfounded as it came toward them. It appeared human from a distance — a human wearing a long, hooded robe and holding a flute to its lips. It approached steadily as it played its jaunty little melody. The creature watched, too, and the wind ceased with its screaming.

"I think it's an evil witch. Why else would it appear at midnight?" one archer whispered fearfully. He raised his bow.

The flutist noticed this and blew out one reedy note. The archer flew back with an unseen force and slammed into the trunk of a tree. He landed unconscious below.

The men shifted feverishly, then, but their apparent leader forced them to hold strong. He waited until the flutist had approached and was close enough to view. Its face was completely obscured, but it had human hands and silvery-white hair that hung messily from beneath the hood.

"Are you a witch?" He asked.

"A witch?" Asked the flutist. Its voice was male and made the man squirm at his inquiry. "No, but I am a wizard."

"And what brings you here, wizard? We are executing this ceremony on official orders from His Grace, Lord Ulrich Edelstein. Interruptions to our proceedings could have dire consequences."

"You have orders to execute," the wizard repeated thoughtfully. "It looks as if you've already been interrupted. Is that the child you mean to destroy?"

At this, the creature in the pentagram screamed again. Tears streamed down its pale face, and it cowered in a hopeless ball of itself, sniffling and hugging the earth. A weak squall poured out of its darkly musical misery and disturbed the grass around the men's boots.

"The only consequence for this creature is its utter destruction. It took the shape of young Master Roderich Edelstein and violently beat him."

"Is that so?" The wizard asked with a hint of humor.

"This is not a laughing matter."

"Do you work for the House of Edelstein?"

"No, sir. I work under His Grace, the Duke Wolfgang—"

"Let's forget formalities. Someone told you to kill that child, correct?"

"We have orders to execute."

"That's all I need to know," said the wizard.

He brought his flute to his lips once more and began to play a new song. This one was more somber in nature, and its minor tones stirred the night and agitated the trees. The archers shivered. Then, in one glorious second, they began clutching at their sides and crying out. They fell to the ground, thrashing and shrieking from vicious pains writhing through their bodies like snakes. Then their eyes closed, and they were asleep.

The wizard rushed forward and unceremoniously swished away part of the pentagram with his flute. He squatted down and beckoned to the creature. The creature backed up whining into the opposite barrier.

The wizard then removed his hood. His cheeks were sunken and ghastly pale, and his eyes were an electric blue too deep and aged for words. His long, pointed ears twitched curiously at little one's sniffling. He peered down at his hands, and they shrank to bony and pathetic. Then he beckoned again, giving a smile filled as much with warmth as it was with sharp teeth.

The creature slowly stopped whining. Then, very cautiously, he approached the wizard's outstretched arms. His tear-filled eyes darted around to analyze the visitor before he grabbed one of the wizard's hands. The wizard scooped him up in his arms and held him close.

The little one struggled. He began whimpering loudly again, but the wizard planted a little kiss on his forehead and stroked his wispy white hair. He smiled down at the little one, though only for a second. His lips pressed into a thin line at the little one's feeble body and the sheer magical energy radiating from it.

 _"Mein Gott,_ you're just a baby. And they think we're heartless. How old are you?"

The little creature didn't want to answer this question. He instead grabbed hold of the wizard's ears and compared them with his own. His panicked whimpering abated in favor of curious sniffling.

"You… papa?"

The wizard smiled weakly. "Haven't grasped language too heavily, I see. Sadly, I'm not your papa."

"Who?"

"I'm your friend. What do you call yourself?"

The little one looked puzzled.

"Do you have a name?"

"No. No name."

"You can't go through life without a grand name for yourself. My name is Frederick, but since you are my friend, you may call me Fritz."

"Fritz? And you are my friend? You do not… hurt?" The little one's eyes bubbled up with tears again. He dug his little claws into Fritz's shoulders in the first hug he had ever returned.

"No. I would never hurt you. But I'm interested. Why did you target the Edelsteins of all people? Why did you make yourself look like that little boy?"

"S-so he not afraid. So he stop his yell. Yelling."

Fritz shook his head worriedly. "Why did you start beating him?"

"I want play. He yell and run. I want him to stop, so he play with me." Just thinking about the encounter caused the little one to shiver.

The wizard sighed. "You have much to learn about the world. Why don't I take you home with me and teach you some things? I can't promise to show you everything I know. Part of growing up as one of us is personal experience, and I'll have to let you go when you're big enough, but you at least need to know you can't waltz up to an Edelstein and beat him so he'll play with you. With no level of audacity can you expect any human to play with you when you use your shapeshifting powers in front of him. Do you understand… er…" Fritz looked around until he spotted the name etched into the soles of the archers' boots. "Gilbert? Do you understand?"

"Gilbert?"

"That's your name. Gilbert. Gilbert with eyes that sparkle like rubies."

* * *

"You seem to care deeply for that creature."

"What makes you say that?"

"You have not left his side all day. You made Rovino-san retrieve the provisions for you. You have brushed hair out of his eyes and checked for his pulse several times in the last hour. You keep looking at him strangely. Your eyes have long since lost their coldness. I have observed these things of you today, Doggie-san."

"Well, you can stop observing me!" The dog-man snarled. "I've never seen this creature before in my life! It's just common sense to help the injured! Now go away! There's no reason for you to be here! You can't help me, so just leave! Go find Lovino or do a good deed or something!"

"As you wish," Kiku said quietly. He then floated through the trees and out of sight.

Ludwig breathed deeply to tame the beast feeding on his emotions. These last few hours had not been good to him. His stress had ever increased, which did lead to him brushing Gilbert's hair out of his eyes and checking his pulse and fixing the cloak wrapped around his fragile body. Even the curse only kept his eyes off his brother for a moment before they were fixed on him again. Building a fire had been a haphazard affair.

Then suddenly, Gilbert's ears twitched. He began to stir. His eyes cracked open, and a low, pained moan escaped his throat.

"Brother, I have food and clothes for you!" Ludwig barked much too loudly. Gilbert grabbed his ears and hissed. Apologizing, Ludwig ever so carefully helped to prop his brother up so he leaned against a tree before unwrapping a cold turkey sandwich. Its potent aroma filled his powerful nose, and he looked longingly at the shredded meat.

Gilbert, once he had smelled food, snatched the sandwich out of Ludwig's paw-hands and wolfed it down with no modesty whatsoever. Ludwig fished out another sandwich and gave it to the ravenous creature, and another, and only after this third sandwich did Gilbert finally look at Ludwig and speak.

"So, how is Herr Doggie doing tonight?"

Ludwig only looked solemn. "Tired, but well now that you're awake. I was getting worried. The last time I checked, you were burning up."

Gilbert stiffened. He looked down at his hands, then rubbed his stomach under the cloak. But he composed himself quickly when he realized what Ludwig had meant. He still felt weak and ill, after all.

"I told you not to worry about me," he snapped.

"But I do. I worry about you far too much. It's an insult to both of us for you to come crashing down bleeding with half your feathers missing and tell me not to worry. I will never stop worrying about you."

"Luddy!"

"Brother, I know we've reunited, but… we both have to accept something. I'm taller than you, my voice is deeper than yours, the money I earn on odd jobs puts your food on the table—"

"Don't you dare say what I think you're going to say!"

"I've grown up."

"No you haven't!"

"I'm an adult now, and with being an adult comes responsibility. You'll never accept it yourself, but I've always been growing stronger, and you've always been growing weaker. That's just how the world works."

"Ludwig _Tauschlein—"_

"No arguing."

"Luddy, no, I've… I've thought about it, too. Believe me, I've told myself again and again that you're no longer my 'little' brother. I even accepted that you've become a man right before my eyes. But then that damn Alfred had to go and tell me he'd attacked you, and when I found you today, all I could see when I looked into your face was a skinny little boy who wanted to snuggle into his big brother's bed because he was afraid of the owls—"

Ludwig bared his teeth, but Gilbert's expression was sincere. His fur flattened, and he let out a humorously canine sigh.

"Brother, it shouldn't be hard to accept. I've been your voice of reason for years."

"But I've always taken care of you!"

"In the past, but who's the one who cooks, cleans, stacks wood, pumps water, does the laundry, and all the other chores for the both of us? Honestly, my muscles aren't huge _just_ because of my strength training."

"I fold the laundry whenever you ask!"

 _"Only_ when I ask," Ludwig muttered. "Look, in no way am I saying you're growing too weak to take care of yourself. I just think you should begin respecting me as more of a guardian than something you need to protect. Didn't you say we're equals as monsters and as brothers?"

Gilbert relaxed a bit. "I did say that. I'm sorry. I was just so afraid you were gone forever. I was having flashbacks to when you were still little. But I underestimated you."

"No hard feelings for your concern. Feliciano's brother isn't a very good healer. But we can forget about the confusion. Now you need to tell me what you meant when you said you haven't told me anything."

Gilbert nodded and looked sincerely into Ludwig's eyes. "You don't know my life story, Ludwig, but you're a man now, and you deserve to hear it."

"So just tell me."

"Let me get comfortable first. Oh, Gilbird! My precious little yellow henchman! I'm so glad to see you're all right!" The yellow bird had just emerged from Gilbert's armpit. It chirped and flew up to nestle in its master's hair while he laughed at being once again surrounded by his family.

"It was stressed when it flew to me. It must have delivered your letter to the wrong Ludwig."

"Well, he must not have read it! But anyway, my story. Now, the first thing I'm going to tell you is that I'm not older than I look. I just say that because I forget how old I really am. Age isn't really important when you live everyday like it's your last. But if I can remember, I'm…" He counted on his fingers. "Twenty-six."

"Twenty-six? That doesn't make sense. I'm nineteen. I'll be twenty next month. That would mean you were only—"

"Nearly six years old when you were given to me. You forget how fast changelings grow. I was about the size of a thirteen year-old human by this age, and I was already sharper than one. Yes, I'm twenty-six years old. And… _Scheiße,_ Ludwig, don't turn twenty, please!"

"No matter how powerful of a wizard you are, you can't stop time."

"Then I'll find a way to make you invincible to time, so you'll never age! I'll deal with demons! I'll weaken my body to the bone! I'll cast myself out a window! I'll travel to the ends of the earth—"

"If I don't get to have birthdays, you don't get to eat my black forest cake."

"Sorry, I'll be quiet. But twenty is such a… _definitive_ number."

"Well, I wasn't born the night you received me. I'm probably already twenty. And you just said age isn't important."

"But Ludwig, you're a human. It's different for you."

"Our differences are the secrets we don't talk about. Now go on. What else is there?"

Gilbert sighed and fiddled with the clasp of the cloak. "I'm not the first dark wizard. Before me, there was a wizard called Frederick. I've told you about him."

Ludwig nodded. "He built Piyo Fortress."

"He didn't _build_ it. He stole it from Wizard Bisi and renovated it to be totally wicked and awesome. And Wizard Frederick was actually a changeling. During the day, he posed as a kind old man in an unassuming town who sold spells and wrote poems to make a living. He stole most of the spells, though. People started to believe he was a fraud, but every now and then he performed real magic to make sure no one would report him.

"Some nights, he reverted to his true form and worked out of Piyo Tower as the dark wizard Fritz. He wasn't as well-known as I am and preferred to work in the shadows, but his curses were legendary. Some are so complex and dangerous, I haven't dared open the books he wrote them in. But Fritz wasn't completely wicked. Every once in a while, he came across a changeling who needed help. He believed in helping his fairer fellows. The night I met Fritz was… the night I was nearly executed."

Ludwig tensed. He reflexively placed a huge paw-hand on Gilbert's shoulder, and Gilbert knew any subsequent arguments against Ludwig's mother hen tendencies were null.

"I had taken the shape of a boy called Roderich Edelstein. He was the son of Lord Ulrich Edelstein — a powerful aristocrat and benefactor. I transformed in front of him so he would stop screaming and running away like the pansy that he was. But of course, I ended up in a pentagram with five iron-tipped arrows pointed at my chest. Then Fritz appeared. He rescued me and told me I was stupid. He named me that night, too!"

Gilbert grinned, but Ludwig found no humor in this part of the story.

"He let me stay with him for a few weeks, but ended up kicking me out. I don't blame him. Baby changelings are the most irritating creatures on the planet, and Fritz had his own identity to worry about. But Fritz set me on the right track to becoming awesome. Because of him, I was ready to teach myself about the world. I eventually just moved into Piyo Tower, and Fritz didn't mind. I still visited him at his house in town. He became an idol to me. Someone to look up to and look forward to being. Then he vanished.

"It was after you were given to me, actually. I wanted him to meet you, but when I reached the town where he worked, his house was empty. I stayed there for a while, but he never came back. I checked Piyo Tower again, and the town again, and there were never any notes for me. I assumed they'd finally figured him out and… well, you know.

"That's when my career really started taking off. Without Fritz around, and with the assumption he'd been killed, I turned my interests to bettering my dark magic to have a line of defense against the humans. Defense, revenge, mischief, whatever. I started teaching myself curses by testing them in the field. I tried them out in many places on many humans, but the best, I mean _worst,_ were saved for the boy who lived in a mansion called Gutshaus Edelweiss.

"Remember Roderich Edelstein? I cursed him the most. Believe me, I placed curses on him so horrible that I had to work countercurses and erase his memory afterwards. He doesn't know the half of what I've done to him. He only remembers the petty curses. And the curses on his hand, of course."

"Curses on his hand… you mean…"

"Yes, Ludwig, Edelstein knows Feliciano, and he wrote the letter summoning the mercenaries. I cursed his hand when he was very young so that he would never be able to say who was cursing him. And do you want to know why his signature is smudged? It's because I cursed his hand so he couldn't sign for changeling executions like the one his father set up for me. He can't even sign his name on friendly letters! Ha!"

"Why curse Roderich? Why not his father?"

"Ulrich died when Roderich was thirteen. His wife died, too. It was some kind of freak accident. I never learned the details, and frankly, when I found out, I pawned you off on your nurse and threw a party for one with fireworks and beer and a real bucking bull that broke two of my ribs, but that is a subject for another time. The point is, weak little Roddy was left to fend for himself. Then he got a little older, and what do you think he did? He started signing for executions."

"Changeling executions."

Gilbert nodded. "The signature of a nobleman gets us burned the fastest. Roderich became a murderer just like his father, and an even better one. With his general annoyingness, a raging sense of suspicion was what kept him agreeable among the other high-class humans."

"Erm, brother."

 _"Ja?"_

"I remember one time you came home after you'd left me alone for a few days, and you were crying. You wouldn't tell me why. You just kept crying and screaming that someone had died. Someone had been killed. Someone _was_ killed. Was it Roderich?"

Gilbert looked puzzled, but he slowly nodded. "I was on my way to curse Roderich just for fun, but I found out immediately after I arrived he'd signed for… a child. I mean, I could have saved him… or her. I didn't even know whether it was a boy or a girl. I could have done what Fritz did for me and saved his or her life. I just arrived too late. I… I was so stricken with grief for someone I didn't know that all I could do was curse his signature and fly home and cry in front of you. I should have just told you then. But I couldn't bring myself to, Luddy. You were too young. Too innocent. I didn't want to frighten you. And… wait a minute… " Gilbert went even paler in the face. His eyes looked distant, as if he'd seen something too terrible for words.

"I'm sorry, brother. If you don't want to go on, it's all right. I've heard enough. Your life has been a twisted one."

"No, no, it's in the past. It was a long time ago. I'm sure Fritz couldn't save everyone either. Where was I? Oh, oh, you know how when you were cursed, I realized how much pain my magic must have caused, and I stopped with the rampant cursing. I even stopped cursing Roderich for a while, but the battle between us never died. A few years ago, I took his shape and almost kissed his wife. That was the greatest night of my life!"

"Back on track. About Edelstein and the mercenaries."

"You can't dismiss the boyish but lovely Elizaveta Héderváry that easily, but sure. I got the letter you sent me and immediately knew it was him, so I flew to Gutshaus Edelweiss and confronted him about it."

"Killing a duke?"

 _"Ja,_ he became _Duke_ Edelstein a good twelve years ago. 'Lord Edelstein' couldn't suit his pompous ass enough. He traded in his father's plain iron band for a thick, fancy one with a big cross engraved into it. Well, I stole that from him. I stole his ring, and I stole his clothes and his shape, and I left him in his own closet sleeping away. Then I went back to Piyo Fortress. I was going to come find the mercenaries and tell them that 'I'd' canceled their mission, but there were complications. I told you something about it earlier, but I know Alfred."

"How?" Ludwig asked suspiciously.

"The summer I left you to find the flower for your potion, I came across him. He was dying, Ludwig. He had it in his mind that he could go into town in his true form completely naked and get away with it. I couldn't let that happen, so I helped him find a suitable shape to use around humans. Then he asked me if I would teach him how to survive among them.

"How old was he?"

"Seven. Alfred is thirteen now."

"That would explain his cockiness."

"No, _I_ gave him his cockiness. I took Alfred and trained him so he wouldn't get himself killed in some stupid way. I really got to know him."

"Why didn't you tell him you were the dark wizard, then?"

"Because I didn't want to start missing you. My life here was something to be forgotten when I traveled over there. Changelings have a tendency to latch onto the people they love the most. We crave love. I had to block out my love for you so I wouldn't go completely insane, so I didn't tell Alfred anything about you or my dark wizard identity. But… now he knows."

"You let him find you out? Gilbert! Do you realize what you've done!?"

"I wasn't trying to! I was angry at him because he was in your shape and saying he attacked you, and I accidentally told him you're my brother! So the mercenaries captured me, and then my potion wore off, so Alfred saw I had red eyes, and I escaped, but I knew he'd realized who I was!"

"He knows the dark wizard is Gilbert, his friend whom he knows very well."

 _"Ja."_

Ludwig gave a very long, drawn-out sigh that morphed into a beastly growl. "We have to do something about this, then."

"What can we do? They have Feliciano, the wand, and my flute, plus all the stuff I stole from Edelstein. You won't let me do anything rash, and I _know_ I'm still too weak to use my powers."

"Well, we're going to figure something out because as much as I dislike how we're treating Feliciano, I will stop at nothing to find that amulet and undo my curse. It's a strange story, and I'll tell you later, but I was having trouble knowing my own true identity a little while ago. If I can get rid of the dog-man forever, I'll be one step closer to understanding who I'm supposed to be now that I've grown up."

"Try being a changeling. It's even more confusing," Gilbert snickered. "I'll help you to get that amulet any way I can. I need it to turn Roderich Edelstein into a chicken in the most painful and embarrassing way possible."

"You what?" Ludwig recoiled. His fur stiffened, and he cocked his head to the side in such a humorously canine fashion that Gilbert couldn't help but grin with all his wicked teeth.

"You heard me. I'm going to turn Roderich into a plump little chicken, and I'm going to create an army of little birds out of all the other heartless humans which will be headed by General Gilbird. It will be the dark wizard Gilbert's ultimate revenge!"

Gilbert cackled at his little unveiling, and Gilbird let out a chirp of wicked support.

"I'm not sure I support that plan, but it's a step up from just 'beer and notoriety' as your wishes."

"I get my notoriety from turning nobles into birds. I'll only curse the bad ones, Ludwig, not the innocent ones. Fritz told me I'm audacious."

"Audacity should come after good reasoning. You realize turning nobles into birds and letting people know about it will finally put a price on the dark wizard Gilbert, and with your secret, it's far too risky. With what you did to Edelstein, anything is too risky."

"Turning nobles into birds is an awesome plan, Ludwig! You just don't realize it! Hey… Luddy, are you smiling? You're smiling!"

The dog-man's lips had ridden up over gleaming teeth, and his blue eyes were glistening just a bit more than usual. A rumble of laughter came from his throat, (though only Gilbert would be able to tell it was laughter and not a warning growl.)

"Never change, brother," the dog-man laughed.

"I can't promise you that," Gilbert replied with a smirk.

"But I do want to know why you kept all this in the dark. You watched me grow up and know what my story is. Why did you never tell me yours?"

"Give me those clothes. I think I can slip them on. That's tough. I think it was just that my stressful life wasn't something I should tell my little brother about. I wanted you to feel safe without knowing about what's really out there. I didn't want you to know about my anger or my fear. I think I wanted to hide those feelings from even myself and focus only on the present. I'd just release them whenever I went out to curse someone. Especially when I went to curse Roderich. And Ludwig, I'll admit it. I _am_ a monster. But… you've… you've grown up. It was getting time to tell you all of it anyway."

"We can't turn back time for you to tell me earlier, so I'm glad you decided to tell me now."

"I could turn back time with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to," Gilbert muttered as he fiddled with his belt.

"Where did you get those burns? They look painful."

"Roderich's ring. The one with the cross. _He_ had some audacity for once."

Ludwig shook his head. "Brother, you can't let justice misguide you. Roderich Edelstein may be heartless, but you can't turn him into a chicken, for revenge or for fun. People would find out, and you'd be—"

"With my luck, they already found him in his closet. Again. I'm a man of many risks, Lud. Today, I fought an eagle at least twice my size."

"It's not a smart idea."

"It is the most awesome-sauce idea I have ever had! Wait, Ludwig… didn't you have scars on your muzzle?"

"I do have scars on my muzzle. They're from the snow demon's claws."

"I swear you did, but… the scars are gone."

Ludwig grabbed at his muzzle and traced with one bulbous, furry finger down to his nose. The fine fur was completely smooth, and no indents marred the skin.

"The scars _are_ gone! But… Lovino! Healing spells are supposed to work instantly! Not several hours after!"

"All the scars on your face are gone, and that little chunk out of your ear is back, too. Looks like that fairy has _some_ talent."

Ludwig huffed. _"Ja,_ some talent indeed," he droned. "He didn't even put a spell on my face today. He probably just spent so much time trying to heal my shoulder that his magic traveled upwards, and even then it decided to take a _siesta."_

Gilbert just laughed and laughed. He patted the plush fur of Ludwig's back in a brotherly sort of way before the gesture turned into outright petting. The dog-man was going to protest, but he had to remind himself it was Gilbert, who could use some stress relief.

Softly and warmly, a little wave of contentment washed through Ludwig's partly-animal mind. In his increasing tiredness, he didn't even notice when his tail began to swing back and forth hurriedly or when he bent down so Gilbert could pet him between the ears. He smiled again, and his tongue slipped out of his mouth in a happy pant. He smelled turkey juice and leaned over to lick the residue off Gilbert's cheeks.

Gilbert held back his laughter through all of this, but having his face licked took the cake. He burst out into a raspy mirth and pushed Ludwig's wet nose away while continuing to pet him between the ears. The yellow bird leapt off Gilbert's head and flew around him in circles, peeping madly with laughter.

"Stop, brother. Stop with the petting. Stop! It's not even midnight, and _he's_ starting to take over!" Ludwig barked.

"But it feels so nice, doesn't it, Doggie?" Gilbert teased in a voice meant for babies. But he realized his brother's plight and took his hand away, continuing to cackle.

"Never. Speak of this. Again," the dog-man sighed as he hung his head. He could feel the heat of his reshaped cheeks beneath the fur. His ears swiveled back. He tried to make that infernal tail stop wagging, but the dog part of him had strengthened from the hand rubbing lovingly through his fur, and a tingly happiness kept zipping from his brain to the hated appendage faster than he could catch it.

"All right. Enough silliness," Gilbert chuckled. "We should get down to business thinking of a way to get back at those mercenaries. I say we use your strength and my cleverness to… I heard something."

Gilbert's ears twitched in the silence. His red eyes focused in on the dark, shadowy trees to the left of them. He then hunched his shoulders and crept forward ever so slowly.

Ludwig could hear something, too. His ears pricked up again at the sound of dry, fallen leaves crinkling beneath something heavy. He sniffed, and he could pick out the scent of strangers with ease.

"I smell them," he said. "Human and bird — no — changeling disguised as a bird."

The crinkling intensified after he said it. A squeaky whispering couldn't evade either set of excellent ears.

"No! They know we're here! Stop it! Shush! No biting! Just relax, okay?"

An indignant twitter accompanied the words.

Ludwig lunged forward. He barreled through the shadowy trees. His great strength snapped one of them in two. The upper half fell to the ground with a crash that made the human he now laid eyes on tremble and swear under his breath. A growl built up in Ludwig's throat, and when he saw the enormous, white-headed raptor cuddled up in the human's arms, he let the dog-man bark with all his terrible fury. His fangs flashed in the moonlight, and his blue eyes blazed. The human fell back onto his rear, gaping at the monster. The bird made no movements in his arms. Its left wing hung limply.

"Well, who is it?" Gilbert asked, casually pushing aside the bushes and coming to his guard dog brother's side with his bird perched loyally on his shoulder. "Who's been listening in on our little conversation? Hm?"

"M-maple."

* * *

 **~N~**

 **An uneventful chapter, but Lud finally knows the full story! (And is ready to talk Gilbert down from his evil plans. ;D)  
**

 **I'd like to thank the anon who brought up _Hetafata_ on the fanfic suggestion blog! Exposure for the story is awesome!  
**


	59. Misadventure with a Poofy Bird

On second thought, he really shouldn't have tried eating the twig.

Matthew spat the woody chunks out into his hand and drug them across the rough bark of the tree they'd come from. They scraped off and landed with a _splat_ at his feet.

For the first time in a while, a sense of vertigo came over him, and he leaned against the tree for balance. His cane he'd decided to leave out of confidence. Matthew had been walking without trouble on two legs for quite some time, but this thick, wooded scenery made his old reflexes tingle, and those included munching on twigs.

His _old_ reflexes. It was an outlandish thought, but it worked to worsen his vertigo. He curiously peered down at furless legs covered by layers of fabric and the boots that protected his "feet". His knees bent and trembled. He looked behind him, almost expecting to find the rest of a furry, quadruped body, but it simply wasn't there. His brows drew together in humored disbelief.

He spat out another chunk of twig and sighed. "It doesn't _taste_ any different from normal. The traders don't have to lie to us. If their teeth are too small to grind wood fiber, it's perfectly understandable."

Matthew huffed. How could he think of humble twigs now when he'd already indulged in some of Francis' lovely sandwiches? Could it be he still felt the need to fill an enormous body for winter? Or was he simply stressed by the endless trees and bloody feathers littering the ground? Or was he just a bit overwhelmed by realizing once again that he was bipedal, and his brother had _magic_ and could _change his shape?_ He quickly realized it was a combination of all three.

And he'd lost track of time.

"Stay calm," he told himself. "Alfred's strong, and he's very clever… apparently. He's fine. It was just a fight. Another fight. A fight with an eagle with sharp talons… _Alfred!_ Alfred, it's me! Tell me where you are! I know you're hurt!"

He didn't know for sure Alfred was terribly hurt, but his chest felt tight whenever he looked at the bloody quills he'd collected, and the knowledge of his brother's impetuous nature prickled angrily at his mind. Matthew tried as hard as he could to stay calm. He closed his eyes. Then, bracing himself, he pushed off from the base of the tree and jumped forward to land with his feet shoulder-length apart. He wobbled a bit, but worked to balance his body. It wasn't difficult, just… different.

The difficult part of being human was trying to run as fast as he usually could with half as many legs and muscles that weren't quite as steely. When Matthew found yet another feather lying pitifully in the dirt, he surged forth with no real direction in mind, calling frantically for his brother.

"Al! Please! I know you're somewhere! I've been searching for hours, and Arthur said you never came back! Please, Alfred! Humble yourself! I don't care what shape you've taken! I just want to know you haven't gotten yourself killed!"

He stopped at that last sentence. A dark thought crossed his mind, but he forcibly pushed it away. This was a large forest. There was no way he'd searched all of it yet. Then again, Matthew hadn't seen the black-feathered adversary whom Alfred had pursued. Perhaps the black eagle was much bigger with much sharper talons. Matthew tried to voice his frustrations, but his throat only produced a whispery whine and nothing of his former great bellowing.

"Excuse me, but you look troubled. Are you lost?"

Matthew jumped in fear. He looked around wildly and let out another startled cry when he saw the partly-transparent figure coming toward him.

"U-um, I'm not lost. I'm just trying to find my brother," he squeaked. His legs shook again, and without warning, he lost his balance and landed with a crash on the ground.

"I did not mean to frighten you. Would you like some assistance?"

"N-no, I'm fine on my own… aren't you that spirit who follows Ludwig around?"

If the spirit in question could feel emotions, he would've stiffened. But the only change in him was that his eyes darkened, and he scrutinized the flustered human with a muted and mimicked disdain. "You are Alfred," he said.

"No! No, I'm not Alfred. I'm his t-twin brother, Matthew, and I'm looking for him, but I don't want to trouble you, and you probably don't want to help me anyway because of whom I'm affiliated with, and I'm sorry you have to see me like this. I'm just not used to two legs, you see."

"Now that I look at you, I can see the difference. But I do not believe I have seen you before."

"I used to be a Homoalces. I mean, I _am_ a Homoalces, but there was this potion, right? And… Oh, maple! I drank that potion so I could help Alfred when he got into trouble, and look where I am now! I can't even find him!"

"Has he been missing for long?"

"All day. He flew off chasing the dark wizard, Ludwig's brother. Why are you here, spirit? Is Ludwig coming this way? Is he coming to 'rescue' Feliciano?"

"Doggie-san intends to rescue Fairy-ciano, yes. But as for your earlier statement, I cannot understand. Ludwig's brother is not a dark wizard, and a dark wizard would certainly not be looking for us. Doggie-san is not one to lie or deceive."

"But is Ludwig camped somewhere around here?"

"Indeed, but I will not tell you where, and neither will I assist you in this irrational endeavor."

"Neither will you assist… wait! Please help! He's hurt, and helping him doesn't mean he'll come after Dog-eh-Ludwig! Okay, maybe it will, but you have to help me find him!"

His pleas were null. The spirit had faded into invisibility again, and Matthew was left alone.

Again he picked himself up and checked with Arthur via the enchanted mirror. The magician gave the same response he'd given all day. Alfred had not returned on any fronts. Matthew hopelessly hung his head and went back in the direction he'd came, backtracking with the landmarks of where he'd found the feathers. With his eyes locked on the ground, he didn't see when he ran headfirst into a tree and fell again. Matthew groaned and spat out dirt. That was when he noticed something entirely new — a dark patch of blood.

It could've been from anything, but somehow Matthew's hope was restored. He prodded the dark dirt with a stick and found it hadn't entirely dried. The blood was fresh! Could that mean whatever shed it was nearby?

"Alfred! It's me, Mattie! Where are you?"

At first, he heard nothing. Then there came a weak-sounding chirrup from his left. Matthew raced toward the sound with one hand on the buckle of his shoulder bag, which contained the clothes Alfred had worn earlier. He scanned his surroundings. There were more splotches of blood painting the dirt, and they grew in number as he followed.

He froze at the sound of a creature scrabbling around. Matthew slowly brought his eyes up to see a great bald eagle hunched low under the lengthening shadow of a hollow tree. His head was ducked down, and Matthew had to come closer to see he was busily tearing strips of meat off a freshly-killed mouse.

"Oh, the blood is just from the mouse. I was worried for a second. Wait, are you _eating_ that?"

The eagle only continued to tear and snap up chunks of meat. He held the prize down with his talons as he dined. Matthew suddenly felt very silly. There was no way this was his brother. This was just an eagle that had twittered at his call. There was no way… an eagle could have a feather stick up from his head like that.

Matthew dropped the bag and gaped at the bird. "It _is_ you! And you're… you're eating that! I-I won't judge! It's… unnerving, but go ahead! I suppose that's the eagle's way!"

The eagle snapped his head up. He eyed Matthew with a curious intelligence before abandoning his snack and hobbling over to the human. Matthew was overwhelmed with disbelief. After kneeling, he cautiously reached out to pet the snowy feathers of the eagle's head. The eagle looked him in the eyes. He twittered amiably.

"Y-you can understand me, right?"

The eagle, Alfred, nodded an eagle's nod.

He could've said anything to express his relief and amazement, but what slipped between his lips was his most urgent question: "Where have you been all day?"

Alfred gestured with his beak to the little area around them.

"Here? So you couldn't catch him, eh? Um, I have your clothes. Can you change back?"

Alfred cocked his head to the side. He attempted to lift his limp left wing and gave a sharp chirp of pain. Worriedly, he scratched a single word in the dirt.

 _NO._

"Your wing is hurt? What about changing everything except your wing? Can't you do that?"

 _LOTS FOCUS. WEAK._

"You'd be weak, eh? Oh, Alfie, I'm so happy I found you. Let me see that wing."

Alfred scooched back. He twittered a warning and pointed with a talon to the word _NO._

"Let me look, Alfie. I can't use magic to heal you, but maybe I can help."

The eagle crooned, puffing up his feathers and digging his talons into the dirt. His sharp eyes bored into Matthew with disapproval.

"I'll be gentle, eh?" Matthew smiled reassuringly, though his mind was still trying to process how he was talking to a carnivorous bird that was also his brother. Said bird grew even more birdlike when he said this and backed up, dragging his injured wing with him.

"Alfred, I'll be frank with you. If you don't let me see it, Arthur will have to go through the trouble of finding out what's wrong before he can heal you, and you want him to spend as little time as possible tending to your injuries, right?"

This seemed to get through to the eagle. He gestured to his wing, but not after chirping another warning to be gentle.

Matthew approached very slowly, still wary of the curved black talons and wicked beak. He whispered his own warning to Alfred to keep his natural weapons to himself, and Alfred chirped what would've been a retort in human language.

As gently as he could, he brushed his fingers along the wing, then grasped and pulled so it unfurled. Alfred screeched. He snapped at Matthew's fingers. The hook drew blood.

"Agh! Mm, please try to let me do this, okay? I promise I'm not trying to hurt you. It looks pretty bad."

Alfred looked at his wing. He tried to lift it and crooned again before letting it fall pathetically to his side. Matthew could see the site of the injury. It was a matted mess of feathers caked in dried blood over the joint where a human elbow would be. That meant his shoulder was unharmed, but if the bone were broken or dislocated, trying to unfurl his wing would be excruciating, and flying was out of the question.

No matter the injury, Alfred was not about to let anyone touch the wing, even his brother. He angled his aquiline face down and made his feathers even fluffier to signify his authority.

"I can't leave you here even if you do manage to miraculously heal. I have to take you back. We have both Feliciano and his brother with us now, and we're counting on you. Plus, I just got some scary news. Ludwig is getting close to town as well—"

Alfred twittered in shock. He hobbled around, searching for a flat spot of ground. When he found one, he immediately started scratching a hurried message.

 _DARK WIZARD IS GILBERT._

"The dark wizard is Gilbert? You mean your mentor Gilbert? That doesn't make sense."

Alfred gave a genuine shrug no wild eagle could've accomplished.

 _HE PROBS MET LUD. HAVE TO STOP THEM._

"I agree, but you need to be in better condition first. You at least need to be well enough to become something stronger. It's not smart to try stopping anyone as a wounded bird."

Alfred hung his head. Matthew could only imagine the pouting his brother would've given had he the ability to speak. But his feathers drooped, and Matthew understood that Alfred had acquiesced.

"We still have time before the sun sets and no one is allowed outside. I'll carry you back. We can use the clothes to wrap your talons in so you don't slice up my arms. And when we get to the gates, I've got a pinch of Invisibility Dust with so the guards won't be suspicious of you."

Alfred eyed Matthew with what appeared to be aquiline disgust.

"Oh, what now? You don't want to be carried? How else will you be able to keep up with me? I won't touch your wing. I promise."

With more tempering, Matthew managed to take Alfred's stubbornness down to a rational level. The bird only struggled a little when Matthew made a little bundle to wrap his feet in and then scooped him up to hold against his chest. For such a large bird, his weight was mostly in feathers, making Matthew even more worried. Hollow bones were fragile, and the injured wing didn't look perfectly angled as it should have been.

"Comfy? Okay, now we're going to find a way out of these woods. Just, uh, chirp if you're uncomfortable, and please don't bite. That hook is sharper than you think."

Matthew set off as briskly as he could. With such precious cargo, he couldn't afford to lose his balance or give in to wood fiber cravings. He focused on the rhythmic movement of his two legs and the gentleness of his arms. Once or twice, Alfred chirped, and he had to lessen his nervous grip on the eagle. Eventually, though, Alfred fluffed his feathers and cuddled into his brother's chest, glad to have the warmth and safety when his wing was troubling him. Matthew held himself back from voicing a response to such behavior, though mostly because he couldn't tell whether it was cute or intimidating.

Yet there was a problem. Matthew had miscalculated how long it would take for the sun to set, and his path was soon shrouded in darkness. He whispered words of comfort to the bird, but his heart began to sink when the darkness crept under every leaf and filled every shadow. He admitted to himself he had now become lost. The bird in his arms was beginning to understand this as well.

"N-not a problem. We can find our way back. It's just hard to see," Matthew muttered. His thoughts were interrupted when the eagle nipped his thumb. "Ow! I said don't bite!"

Alfred grew restless. He pointed with his beak to a source of light. _Firelight._ Matthew approached it as the eagle indicated and found there were voices coming from the little camp.

"What can we do? They have Feliciano, the wand, and my flute, plus all the stuff I stole from Edelstein. You won't let me do anything rash, and I _know_ I'm still too weak to use my powers..."

Alfred struggled. He twittered in protest. Matthew tightened his grip.

"Well, we're going to figure something out because as much as I dislike how we're treating Feliciano, I will stop at nothing to find that amulet and undo my curse…"

"Be quiet," Matthew whispered. "That's the dog-man, and the one with him… is that the dark wizard?"

Alfred bobbed his head vigorously.

"You heard me. I'm going to turn Roderich into a plump little chicken, and I'm going to create an army of little birds out of all the other heartless humans which will be headed by General Gilbird. It will be the dark wizard Gilbert's ultimate revenge!" Cackled a raspy voice steeped with malice.

"That just confirms it. So he's Gilbert, eh? That's one heck of a coincidence. No, Alfred! Hush! We can't afford to be found out!"

Matthew crouched down in a grassy hollow and peered beyond a row of tangled bushes. The dog-man, huge and frightening as ever, sat hunched over another being. Matthew recognized the long ears and sickly frame that signified a changeling, but _this_ changeling's features made a shiver run down his spine. He was nothing more than a living corpse with eyes the color of blood and skin as pale as death. His long, pointed nose looked almost like a bird's beak. Sunken cheeks made the bones of his face severe and haunting. Matthew's mind reeled from the sin of judgement, but when he saw the creature grin with mangled yellow fangs, there was no denying it. He was absolutely hideous. Supernaturally hideous.

The changeling's appearance froze Matthew in place just long enough for Alfred to land a fierce bite to his finger and wriggle partly out of his arms. Matthew snapped back to reality. He strengthened his grip on the bird, letting his boots crinkle dead leaves in the process. Alfred gave an indignant squeak.

"I heard something," the hideous creature said. Matthew sucked in a shaky breath. Alfred nipped at his sleeve and pulled.

"No! They know we're here! Stop it! Shush! No biting! Just relax, okay?" Matthew hissed.

Still Alfred persisted in struggling. Matthew had stood up and was about to bolt when the dog-man threw himself forth and barked with a thunderous volume. Matthew's blood ran cold at the monster's bristling fur and beastly blue eyes. The dog-man frightened the bird as well, for he made no movements when Matthew fell backwards and stared up at the beast with a pale, blank expression.

"Well, who is it? Who's been listening in on our little conversation? Hm?"

The changeling, striding up casually next to the beast, locked his red eyes with Matthew's lilac, and for a moment, he felt as if every fiber of his being was turned over and inspected with meticulous focus. He flinched at such unwavering attention flooding in his direction. Perhaps any other time, someone looking at and listening to him would be welcoming, but this creature was certainly _not_ welcome to scrutinize him. Neither was he welcome to continually stare dumbstruck in Matthew's direction.

"M-maple," Matthew squeaked.

He felt something quivering by his ankle and realized it was Alfred. Furtively, Matthew brought his arms around the frightened bird and cuddled him to his chest again. All that fussing, and now Alfred was too afraid to even chirp or struggle! They never should have come this way! Now the dog-man _and_ the dark wizard had their full attention! Oh, what could possibly happen now!?

"So a silky boy and his poofy bird think they can evade the ears of a creature of darkness and his loyal beast, do they?"

"I, um, _we_ weren't trying to intrude on you! We were just… lost! We, at least, _I_ didn't hear anything you were saying! S-something about chickens, and that's about it! We'll just be going, now!"

Gilbert glared. "Not so fast. If you were anyone else, perhaps I'd let you go with only the image of my face to haunt you. But I'm not about to do that when I've seen you before. _Both_ of you." He brought his terrible eyes down to the eagle. Alfred screeched and tried to dart forward, but Matthew caught him.

"I can't have you blabbing to those other mercenaries about anything you heard here, or anything you've seen. You see, as a dark wizard, I like to retain my privacy. Normally, I wear a hooded robe to hide my features. But you've caught me without it, and I don't like that."

"So sorry, sir. We really didn't mean to intrude."

"Did you hear that, Luddy? A human _apologized!_ Now, that's true politeness for you! But you can't get off the hook, Silky. I'm going to curse you now."

He hummed a few gravelly notes and snapped his fingers. Matthew stiffened. Literally _stiffened._ It was as if every muscle in his body had seized and ceased to function. A faint red aura surrounded his form. The eagle dropped from his grasp and tumbled over the ground.

"You may be thinking about what I'm going to do to you. Hmm, you heard me talking about chickens. Would you like to _become_ a chicken? It's not a difficult life. I think when I was flying earlier, I saw a nice farm just a few kilometers from here. A chicken can run up to fourteen kilometers an hour! You'll be there in no time."

 _Oh, please let this not be happening! I've already been transformed once, and curses hurt, don't they? I've seen what it looks like when Al turns into a bird!_

"Brother, is this really a good idea right now?" The dog-man droned.

"Of course this is a good idea! I need to set an example!"

"You can save your example for Volkerburg. You can't be turning people into chickens just anywhere. So they accidentally ran into us."

"With the position they were in when we found them, that was no accident! I'm making this pince-nez nerd the pilot of Operation Lustercluck!"

"Operation… you gave the plan a name!?"

"All great evil plans have names, Ludwig, and considering this is the dark wizard Gilbert's magnum opus… or should I say magnum _omelet!_ Just think of how many omelets we'll be eating once we have that amulet and I start wishing away! We can get such a large variety! Chicken eggs, goose eggs, duck eggs—"

The yellow bird on his shoulder gave an offended chirp.

"We won't eat the eggs from the ones that look like Gilbird, but we could try sparrow eggs! You figure out how to cook them!"

"And if you plan on making a wide variety of birds, why is it called 'Operation Lustercluck'?"

"Because the most exciting part will be wishing that oh-so-glorious Roddy plumps up and starts clucking right before my eyes!"

"And will he lay eggs made of gold?"

"What kind of sick, deviant fantasies are you having, Luddy!?"

Matthew winced when the sharp hook of Alfred's beak nipped his fingers again. He brought his eyes down the best he could to meet the face of the eagle while the odd pair of them continued to argue. A harsh chirp came from his beak, and Matthew had the feeling he was missing something.

"I already told you this plan of yours will never get off the ground. You're not going to make the poor man your pet, no matter how wicked he is."

"Of course it won't get off the ground. Chickens don't fly, Luddy. They _run._ And why did you say I could save my antics for Volkerburg, then?"

"If we were in Volkerburg, it would mean all this _Scheiße_ is behind us, and we would have more time to discuss this 'plan' of yours with clear heads."

Matthew followed the eagle with his eyes. Alfred swished away the crinkling leaves with his talons. But, finding the ground was covered in dead grass, he put himself in Matthew's direct line of sight and fluffed his feathers up until he looked like he'd been tossed around in a storm.

"What?" Matthew said. He found he could still speak, though his jaw was severely hindered by the enchantment, and the word was barely audible.

Alfred pointed with a talon to Gilbert, who was still arguing with the dog-man. Then he fluffed his feathers and twittered.

"Gilbert is scary?"

The eagle shook his head. He rubbed his fluffed up feathers against Matthew's hand, keeping them as poofy as possible. He then pointed to Gilbert again.

"He's soft? He has feathers? What?"

Alfred chirped two notes one after the other. He repeated the phrase and fluffed himself to cuddly proportions.

"Poofy? Floofy? Fluffy? He's fluffy?"

The eagle winked as if to say _"Almost!"_ He then drew a letter B in the air with a talon.

 _"E?_ Oh, B? Fluffy B? Bluffy? Bluffing! He's bluffing! Of course! He needs the amulet to have enough power to turn me into a chicken. He's still trying to regain his strength, and he's only bluffing so he has time to think of what to do with us!"

Distorted though the words may have been, Gilbert heard them. He turned his eyes to Matthew with a renewed gleam of malice.

"I can put you to sleep even if I don't have the power to curse you," he hissed.

The dog-man shifted on his feet. "How about you just wipe their memories, and I'll chase them back out into the wilderness? You still need rest."

Gilbert made a pouty face at the fact that his weakness had been revealed, but he shrugged. "You need just as much rest, Luddy, but all right..."

With this statement, the dark wizard crept forward toward the two of them. Alfred crooned and hobbled in front of his brother with a dark look of warning. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"Step aside, Alfred. I'm not making you dumb as feathers. I'm just going to make you forget what happened here. Wouldn't you like to forget you knew my true identity? Forget you've seen me in this light? I have nothing against you personally. It's just that I was going about my dark wizard business as usual, stealing powerful objects to plan my revenge, and we happened to meet again in some unfortunate circumstances."

"Careful, Gilbert," Ludwig warned.

"You could help," Gilbert snapped. "Scare him so I don't get shredded. Dogs eat birds, don't they?"

Gilbird cheeped in horror and nipped its master's ear. Alfred, meanwhile, took the opportunity to rush forward and dig the hook of his beak into his beloved mentor's ankle. Gilbert screamed, the sound swelling over the night air and stirring up a mystifying breeze from out of nowhere. The eagle slashed with his talons over already-healing cuts from earlier in the day. They reopened and immediately began to gush purple.

His victory didn't last for long, however. The dog-man, furious at his brother's pain, sent a howl into the night after Gilbert's screams and launched himself at the bird. His enormous jaws just missed Alfred's good wing, but a clawed paw-hand was able to rip quite a few feathers from his body. Alfred scurried out from under the beast and rushed to Matthew, who had been freed in Gilbert's distraction.

With heart pounding, Matthew scooped up his brother and began sprinting as fast as he could through the trees. Alfred's loose talons pierced through the fabric of his sleeves and into his arms, but he continued on with the bird clutched tightly to his chest. Somehow, even in terror, he managed to refrain from touching the injured wing.

The dog-man barreled after them. His mighty size snapped smaller trees left and right. His monstrous barking was in no way human, and his snuffling and rhythmic breathing signaled that his human mind had been forcibly pushed far beneath the surface. Matthew ran and ran. His own breathing came out in hurried, frantic gasps. Sweat pooled in his armpits. It dripped down the back of his neck and dampened his shirt.

 _Look where you got us now, Alfred!_ He wanted to scream, but his lungs burned as they strained to provide his tiring body with oxygen, and provoking Alfred in his own frazzled state was null. Matthew's heart skipped a beat when he almost tripped on a root sticking up. He could hear the dog-man coming closer. He could _feel_ the beast's hot, moist breath on the back of his neck and the pounding vibrations of his paws hitting the ground. Matthew's hair flew in his eyes. He spat it out of his mouth.

 _I can't outrun him!_ He thought with fright. _A dog runs faster than a human, and he's one heck of a dog!_

And he didn't outrun the dog-man. Matthew felt a great weight slam into his shoulder. He flew to the ground and tasted dirt. The lenses of his pince-nez were smeared with muck and oil from his face. Every muscle throbbed, aching for more oxygen. Matthew sucked in as much air as he could. He could've collapsed and fallen asleep right then and there, but his worries were far from over.

With all his strength, he forced himself onto his elbows and knees and tucked the bird under his torso. He could hear the beast poised to strike right above them. The dog-man was seconds away from pouncing and sinking his teeth into Matthew's body, or worse, devouring Alfred whole. Matthew had a frightening suspicion the dog-man wouldn't mind coughing feathers out of his throat in such a wild state of mind. Protectively, he brought one arm around the trembling bird's breast.

"You're human!" Matthew shrieked, tears of fright slipping from the corners of his eyes. His voice was louder than it had ever been, and in that moment, Matthew knew he was the son of the biggest bull in Dinsmoor. "Ludwig! Your name is Ludwig! You're human! This isn't you! Remember! You're _human!"_

The beast leapt into the air. His claws raked forward, and his muscles quivered in anticipation for finishing his victims off. Matthew cowered. He hunched low, almost squishing the eagle to the ground to act as a shield. The dog-man could tear open his back first. He could bite his entire arm off first. Take an arm for Alfred's wing. Take anything but the injured eagle. Anything…

What kind of thoughts were these? Let himself be injured so terribly? Just _let_ himself become mince meat!? But there was no other option! The world was moving too slowly! It was like he were swimming through molten tar! There was no time to roll out of the way without making himself or Alfred even more vulnerable! The fangs were already piercing his skin! The beast's incredible weight was pressing down on him, cracking his ribs and forcing his skull into the mud!

The dog-man squealed.

 _What?_

Trembling, Matthew lifted his head. His ribs weren't cracked. His clothes weren't ripped. No blood stained his skin. Save for the scrapes on his hands from falling and the talon marks, he was completely unharmed. Alfred fearfully hobbled out from under him to peer where he was looking. There was the dog-man sprawled out on his back and heaving not ten feet from them. His eyes were squeezed tightly closed, and his muscles were tensed to their limits. He whined pitifully in his throat, almost in a way that sounded like… sniffling?

"Th-thank you for reminding me," he sputtered in his deep growl of a voice. "I'm so… incredibly sorry. I… I can't control myself… when the instinct takes over. I get angry, and _he_ just… "

If he weren't so terrified, Matthew would've accepted Ludwig's gratitude and expressed his own for the dog-man not ripping him to shreds. Instead, he tore his eyes away from Ludwig and made sure Alfred was all right. The eagle's wing was unfortunately bleeding again, and his feathers were tousled out of control, but he didn't look any worse for wear. Matthew removed his waistcoat and shirt to use as new buffers for the talons. His gleaming skin rejoiced to be free of covering and was instantly cooled by the night air.

"W-what are you just sitting there for? _Go!_ I don't want to end up chasing you again." The dog-man's voice was certainly distressed. It quavered with such emotion that Matthew couldn't help but feel sorry for the creature that had almost killed him seconds before.

"Are you hurt?" Matthew blurted.

Ludwig snarled. "No! Now just go! Go before I lose myself again!" He began whining louder, the whines mixing with beastly snarls. His claws scraped into the ground with extreme focus.

Matthew was reluctant to leave him in such mental anguish, but he heeded the warning. With Alfred safely in his arms, he rushed on toward the gates of Lafée, hoping the guards would not condemn his presence after dark.


	60. The End of the Jest

Behind a calm and collected purse of the lips was the widest sneer Arthur had ever produced.

His gentlemanly side chastised it. There was no reason to feel any victory over the victim, and their professional interactions had been fairly respectful up until that afternoon. But that other side of him — the prideful and talented magician side — couldn't help but sit primly on his shoulder breathing flames of self-praise. He felt almost _sportsmanlike._ Was this not just another contribution to the public rivalry that had simmered for ages as entertainment for both parties? Fairies and humans alike?

"Arthur, please make him shut up."

The magician turned to Yao, who was sitting across from him at the table, chin in his hands. He had dark circles under his eyes, and Arthur was pretty sure he'd just yawned for the hundredth time that evening.

"Which one?" Arthur asked, coming out of his prideful inner monologue and taking a sip of his tea.

"Any of them," Yao cut.

He supposed they were all rather annoying. Francis wasn't the only one moaning in complaint, (though he was the only one locked in the closet.) The two macaroni brothers, (as Arthur had begun to call them,) were seated at the table as well. One was looking forlorn and hopeless, dried trails of tears clinging to his cheeks, and the other was using his gifted tongue to jab at the others while fiercely keeping his gaze from settling upon a certain demon. Neither was truly all right in any sense of the word.

As it had happened, the managers of the inn Feliciano had been staying in were extremely cross at the Mercs of the Messy hand for claiming sovereignty over the tea room, and when it was discovered what had become of the antique tea table, they demanded the motley group leave at once. They returned to their own inn and set up camp in the room with the square table in the center. With some recklessly-worked invisibility and gawking-repellent spells on Arthur's part, they managed to take the fairies back yet again. It was then when Francis unleashed his full ire upon Arthur for leaving him unconscious in a locked room, and then Arthur's hex finished morphing him into something truly asinine, and then chaos ensued, et cetera.

"It's improper to tell our guests they don't have the privilege of speaking," Arthur said.

"Guests… right," Lovino growled. "You knocked both of us out and basically have us in a torture chamber listening to the ass in the closet."

A loud, low moan of despair swelled from behind the closet door.

Yao clenched his teeth. He whispered harshly, "He realizes he's making himself look even worse by acting like this. He could've just gone to his own room, but no, he can't bear to have us look at him for even a few seconds. Just do something, Arthur. You said you could fix it. Just fix it before we _all_ get a headache listening to him!"

"I didn't think he was going to grow a sodding _tail."_

"So what? You're saying you're a magician and you can't fix it?"

"I meant I could cover up any fur he sprouted with some cosmetic illusions. But considering the tail… and the ears… oh, and his nose… it's far less trouble to just let it wear off on its own."

"And how long will that take?"

"These nearly always wear off by morning."

"That's just what we need. No sleep and then Francis whining about his puffy eyes."

"Serves you right," Lovino murmured, his face buried in crossed arms.

Yao shook a fist at the smug-looking fairy. "Listen up, you. When you have that spell removed, you'll be thanking us. Just stop trying to resist and be patient. We'll hear from Alfred about the dark wizard soon enough."

Feliciano gasped. "He's coming back?"

Lovino raised a gesturing hand without lifting his head. "They're bluffing. All they're doing is buying time and trying to think of a way to prove something that isn't real. You and I both know there's no dark wizard, just like there's no spell on me."

"There is too a spell on you! I saw it! It's red just like the spell Feliciano has!" Arthur barked.

Lovino brought his head up and glowered at the magician. "And who put this spell on me? Your fictional dark wizard dream-lover? I don't know whether this is the real world or not, but I don't remember anyone putting a spell on me."

"Feliciano is bound to be loyal to Ludwig, and he doesn't remember that happening, does he?"

"I'm not bound to be loyal! It was just a simple agreement! I agreed I would give Doggie the amulet out of the goodness of my heart! I _do_ remember that happening! Why is it so hard to understand!?" Feliciano yelled.

The table was silenced. The air grew a few degrees colder, but Arthur flashed a warning glare to the spectating demon next to him, and the temperature rose again.

The olivine glower had morphed into a death stare. Arthur shifted in his seat. Surely there was a way to remedy their guests' emotions? This was what his social training was for. Putting out fires. Making everyone feel welcome. Becoming a source of civility and simple felicity. Years he'd been taught. Years he'd hosted and attended teas and dinner parties and balls. (And acted charmingly aloof at all.) Yet in this moment, he was completely stumped. There was no remedying this, and Yao seemed too irritable to lend any sort of progressive hand in the matter.

The pregnant pause that ensued was interrupted only when Arthur dared look in the table drawer in front of him and discovered a deck of cards. Perfect!

"Rummy, anyone? Or perhaps One-and-Twenty?"

The silence only continued until Lovino suggested his own game, perhaps only because looking at cards was a grand excuse not to expose himself to the frightening sight of Ivan. "Old Maid," he said, pressing his fingertips together.

Arthur looked to Yao, but it seemed the fairy was sincere.

"Old Maid it is."

"Except we won't call it 'Old Maid'. We'll call it 'Who's the Ass'?"

Arthur's civil smile stretched. "Fine. Whatever you want to call it. Francis, would you like to join in our game?"

"Not if I am to be the object of your derision!" Francis cried from beyond the closet door.

"He admits it," said Lovino.

And that's when it happened. The sneer Arthur had been oh-so-carefully stifling showed itself, and he produced a short puff of laughter that was much too conspicuous. He strained to quell it and hid any further partiality behind the distraction of figuring out how to deal.

"The dealer starts. Arse, er, _Ass_ is the… well, it seems the King of Spades is nowhere to be found. And we're missing the King of Hearts. We can just pretend the King of Clubs doesn't exist, and Ass will be King of Diamonds, yes?"

The table agreed.

Arthur dealt. Even Feliciano accepted his cards without protest. They then moved seats in order to place themselves at points of greater strategy. Arthur was just about to offer his hand to Lovino when the closet door slammed open.

"I will play! But only to prove to the rest of you I am _not_ to be ridiculed! I am a knight! I should not be so foolish! I am the epitome of masculine beauty in any new fashion!"

"For a strange kind of fashion… " Arthur muttered.

Lovino burst out laughing, Yao muttered under his breath, and Arthur bit down hard on his lip to hide his arrogant mirth.

"Take your pick of a seat," he managed to say before his breath rushed forward in a light chuckle.

"Seeing as it's my move," Francis growled. He took his seat on Arthur's right. It was a bothersome task to sit with his newly-grown tail pushing down the seat of his slacks. He couldn't help but blush when everyone stared at his long, fuzzy ears and frizzy gray beard and swollen nose, but he took his cards and sent around an indigo glare that masked his embarrassment for the present.

The game commenced. With no pressure in the beginning, the players drew cards from the right without contemplation. Two by two, the pairs of color and rank were discarded onto the table. Hands changed, and faces were made. Slowly but surely, the number of cards each player had became less and less.

Arthur didn't even flinch when the King of Diamonds made its way into his cards, and he never so much as batted an eyebrow when Lovino selected it and added it to his shrinking hand. Lovino's lips twitched for a second-long scowl before he regained his own composure. An amateur mistake, but what was an amateur in such a simple game as this?

Lovino suavely passed his hand to Yao, who selected a card and deposited the two black Tens onto the table. This left him with only two cards, and he offered them sweetly to Feliciano. Arthur could see him press one card out further than the other and raise his eyebrows in a smile when Feli reached for it. Feliciano made a fretful squeak when he took the card, but accepted it nonetheless and shuffled it with his hand.

Ivan took a card without questioning Feliciano's offer. Arthur wasn't sure he understood the point of the game and secretly hoped he didn't choose the King, if that's what Feliciano had, of course. Arthur couldn't even tell whether he was happy or not with his selection. It probably wasn't fair to let him play when he could see secrets. But with no pairs made in his hand of three, he offered it on to Francis.

Francis, oh Francis, who only had two cards left, and was looking stupidly determined.

The knight put both of them in one hand and shifted his shoulders. Before drawing, he brushed his gray-streaked hair back behind one of his ridiculous ears, then tensed at how sensitive his ears had become. His fingers trailed over Ivan's cards. He scanned each one, contemplating his pick.

"You're usually a far left man, Francis," Arthur noted.

"Lately, I've been thinking more right," Francis retorted in spite. He picked the card on the far right and barely looked at it before shoving the three-card hand in Arthur's face.

"No need to be pushy. We're gentlemen, aren't we? I am, at least."

Arthur scrutinized Francis' countenance. He was far too eager to win and equally eager to get the game over with. In an exaggerated emulation, Arthur danced his fingers over the backs of the cards, going back and forth over the three of them at least five times before Francis jabbed them into Arthur's palm.

"This is a strategy game. Let me take my time."

"You're being cheeky."

"Look at who's being judgemental."

Arthur picked the card on the left. Francis had raised his brows when his fingers hovered over the middle. Too easy. His prize was the Four of Hearts. He matched it, stone-faced, with his Four of Diamonds and whisked them across the table to land in the untidy aftermath of so many lucky selections. He held only the Queen and Ace of Spades now, and he smiled down at the solitary Queen when Lovino picked the latter to match with his Ace of Clubs.

Yao was out of cards with his selection, and Feliciano offered his to Ivan with no qualms at all. Ivan made a match with the two black Threes before offering his three remaining cards to Francis. This time, Francis wasted no time snatching a card out of those offered.

 _He's got it, doesn't he?_ Arthur thought warily. _Not the one he picked, then._

But Francis didn't offer his cards. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then glanced over at Arthur.

 _Oh, I see what's going on._

"Show us your hand, Francis."

"This may be a strategy game, but that would be cheating, _mon cher."_

"Why aren't you offering your hand, then? Because you've got a pair and the King?"

"What? Here," Francis said, shoving his hand to the left.

"No, you hesitated. I'm not taking one. Show us your hand."

"What if that's not what he has?" Yao asked, but Arthur could tell he was intrigued.

"Last time, he barely looked at the card, and this time, he didn't even care which card he picked. He took it, then hesitated. Didn't you see him squirm in his seat?"

"He has a pair and the King," Ivan said.

"Demon magic is cheating!" Francis exclaimed.

"I'm not using demonsight. I'm just tall enough to look over and see what your hand is. You are cheating by giving cards to little Arthur."

"Show us your hand, Francis," Arthur taunted, the sneer from earlier slowly returning in full, conspicuous view.

"Well, since there's no suspense after that little reveal, fine," Francis snapped. He slammed his hand down on the table face-up. Two red Jacks and the King of Diamonds.

"Ah, so you're a double jackass," Arthur chuckled.

Lovino, for the first time that evening, cracked a genuine smile. He turned his chair so he was looking only at Arthur and had no chance of seeing the demon. "You might be completely out of your mind, but in some ways, we think alike, wingless bastard."

"We'll think even more alike when I prove there's a dark wizard."

The smile was gone. "There is no dark wizard! You're completely stupid!"

"Not as stupid as Francis."

It wasn't after a second after he said this when Francis grabbed hold of Arthur's right ear and began tugging with all his might.

"Can't take a slight, can you?"

"Can't control your fairy impulses, can you?" Francis retorted, pulling even harder. Unluckily for Arthur, fairy ears were very tender, and Francis' strength was impressive.

"And we're right back to tea time's argument, aren't we?" Arthur hissed through the pain. He made a show of wiping his hands with his handkerchief before yanking on Francis' beard, (which looked even longer and curlier than before the game.) Francis pulled on Arthur's other ear, pinching this time. Arthur flinched. He let go of the beard and went for Francis' fuzzy ears. Francis wasn't used to them, _and_ they were delicate. He yanked furiously.

Francis sent a dark glare to the fairy, clearly in pain. Arthur reciprocated. His ears were going numb, and Francis' manicured fingernails weren't doing him any good. If only he could cast something… but he'd done enough to the poor human already. But his ears really hurt! And it was a severe insult to pull a fairy's ears!

Before either of them knew it, the fight had escalated. Francis punched Arthur in the chest. Arthur sent a stinging slap to the face. Francis gave a fierce kick to the shin. Arthur stumbled, but not before grabbing the bristly black end of the tail swinging behind his adversary and yanking as hard as he could. Francis tumbled to the ground. He clutched his backside, cursing aloud and wishing the attachment would just disappear.

Arthur had gotten up and kicked Francis in the chest. Francis rolled over and pulled on Arthur's right shoe, then his sock. A perfectly soft and dainty foot slipped out. Arthur whipped back, but he had too much forward momentum and lost his balance. His cheek met the rug and scraped against the fibers. He pushed himself up, turning, but Francis shoved him back, and he was down again, huffing and puffing. A sharp jolt of emerald static to Francis' stomach was enough to get him off. Arthur stood up to straighten his cravat and slick back his hopeless mop.

Francis wasn't hindered for long, however. In an instant, he was back up and gripping the breast of Arthur's waistcoat. Arthur latched onto the furry ears again, and the fight suddenly became a battle of insults.

"Caterpillar!"

"Ass-face!"

"Flitting fae!"

"Mundane!"

"Tiny feet!"

"Hairy chest!"

"Are you mocking yourself?"

The arguing and betting in the background continued only until the door to the room opened. In stepped a disheveled, sweaty, and very worried Matthew cradling an equally-disheveled eagle in his arms.

"You won't believe how hard it was just to get back into town at this time of… oh?"

Alfred screeched in his version of laughter. His eagle voice may not have been all that impressive, but it was still louder than the squabbling. All turned to the raptor and his brother. Arthur and Francis let go of each other and straightened their clothes, as though the opinion of these new arrivals was of ultimate importance.

"Matthew!" Arthur said. "Er, our little game was going awry."

"Charades," Francis covered up.

"With interpretive dance," Arthur added.

"The topic was 'sensual sculptures'."

"What? No it wasn't! It was _clearly_ Act 4, Scene 1 of—! Wait, no! What!?"

"I am surrounded by idiots," Yao muttered.

"Um, okay," Matthew said. He was staring at Francis' strange new features and at the same time doing everything in his power not to stare. Ultimately, he had no reaction to what he'd walked in on, as he immediately went over to the table, swished away the cards, and set the eagle down. "Alfred's hurt."

"Alfred!?" Feliciano shrieked. He whipped his head around again. When he saw the curious cowlick sticking up amidst the eagle's white feathers, he clenched his fists to brace himself and froze.

All grim countenance returned to Lovino. He waved his hand in front of Feliciano's placid eyes, then shook his brother, but these were to no avail. The enchantment had taken hold of Feli's body once more. Lovino turned to the others, his lips in a tight frown and his hands poised in gestures of hostility. "You can make me play games and compliment you, but you mess with my brother, and you're on my bad side. Who am I kidding? You've never once been on my good side. You've made me sit for hours now next to the frozen monster that took my flight away! You're all monsters!"

"Well, you're… you're not leaving," Arthur retorted weakly.

"You're going to feel the wrath of the entire House of Roma, right here, right now," the green-winged fairy seethed. "We have powerful magic in our blood that runs back generations, even before my grandfather was born with the gift of music. I don't care what you pride yourself in. How many spells you've studied or how many curses you've broken. We Romas look out for each other, and you've _just_ crossed the line."

Lovino advanced toward Arthur. His fingertips were sparking olive-green, and his eyes glittered as bright as the warm, summer sun.

Arthur thought of telling Ivan to stop him, but he couldn't bring himself to. That would be utter wickedness. He had seen the fear in Lovino's eyes every minute since he'd been brought here, and he could definitely see it now through the anger. Lovino was terrified, and a terrified fairy should never be allowed to use magic.

"Stop," came a small voice.

Lovino whipped around, not caring who had said it. "You can't make me. You know, it wasn't just my lack of the gift that got me kicked out of Straffino. No, it was also because I was _too much_ for them. When they doubted me for the last time, I _showed_ them what I could do. Oh yes, I _showed_ them my ultimate potential. And if you think you can cross me—"

"Stop it!" Matthew commanded.

"Stop for what!? Your idiotic delusion!? Your belief in this fairytale with dark wizards and deceptions!? I _know_ you're the real problem! It's the absolute truth! And _this_ just proves it!"

He untied his cloak and threw it to the ground. His broken wing, darkened and heavy, hung before all of them. Lovino shivered in the heat of his revealing.

"I don't even believe there is a wishing amulet anymore…"

"Can you just breathe? I don't want you to stop because I'm against you. It's because I can _see_ that you're scared, and you don't want to trust anyone anymore. And that's fine, but… oh, someone just please help Alfred! Help him, please! I-I think his wing is broken or something! It hurts him so bad, he can't fly or transform! I was trying to run back here carrying him, but the dog-man, he, he nearly _killed_ us! And then the guards yelled at me…"

Needless to say, Matthew beat Lovino to the tears. Alfred hobbled over to his side of the table and nuzzled his hand with his head, twittering softly. Francis was instantly at his side as well, and Matthew accepted the man's embrace and little pats of comfort.

Ivan had retreated into the corner and was currently unsure of what to do with himself. A frown of rare guilt was plastered across his goatish face. Arthur pushed past the bitter one and looked down at Alfred on the table.

He could have asked where the dark wizard was, or where Alfred had been all day, or why he couldn't have come back sooner, but seeing the fragile state Matthew was in and the fact that Alfred couldn't even respond to such questions, he instead went direct.

"Which wing?"

Alfred scooched back.

"Let him heal you, Al," Matthew growled through his tears.

Alfred looked from his brother to his friend. He gave a long, low chirp of exasperation before turning so Arthur could see his left wing. Arthur brushed it and pulled. Alfred screeched. He almost snapped at the magician's fingers, but decided a little extra anguish was better than more long, drawn out pain. His volume increased when the wing was unfurled feather by feather until Arthur could see the injury in full detail.

"Let's see… it's like an elbow, almost. I could try a—"

Lovino shoved him out of the way and seized Alfred's wing. The eagle screamed in pain. The fairy jerked the wing out, then pressed it in a little. He ran a glowing green hand over the feathers. Green static crackled on the points of his ears. Alfred's wing shifted and _cracked_ one, two, three times. Then the torn flesh began knitting together, and the missing feathers began rapidly growing back.

All the while, Lovino muttered under his breath: "It's good to help changelings. It's good to help changelings. I _am_ a good healer. It's good to help them. It's cruel to leave them without care. Help changelings. Help them. Mundane said help changelings."

He stepped back when finished, simply staring at the bird. A reddish darkness was thick in his eyes before clearing. Then, in the midst of some indecipherable struggle, Lovino gave a sharp cry of frustration and flung his arms up before sitting back down in his chair and hiding his face in his hands again.

Arthur looked puzzled at Lovino. Was this a change of heart? Or simply a clause of the spell? Nonetheless, the magician turned his attention back to the eagle. Alfred was slowly unfurling his left wing. He chirruped in what Arthur took to be amazement. With a burst of sudden joy, he lifted both of his wings and flew a circle around the room, landing once again on the table.

Matthew let go of Francis and rushed to lightly hug the eagle. "He healed you?"

Alfred cocked his head to the side. Such was obvious.

"Do you have anything for him to eat? Or some clothes? We don't have any dirt here for him to write in, and he must feel a little helpless in such a little body."

Alfred gave an indignant squeak.

"There are plenty of extra sandwiches, and his clothes are in his room where he left them," said Francis. "But you should worry about yourself, Matthieu! You're all bloody!"

"I'm… oh." It was now when Matthew finally realized the startling damage Alfred had done to his arms and fingers.

"You needn't worry. I'll get a basin, and you'll be healed in a snap," Arthur smiled.

"Arthur, can you get Alfred's pajamas? Hey, Al, do you think you can change back if we have some sandwiches for you? Francis, how many sandwiches are there? You know about his appetite, and you won't believe what I found him eating out in the forest. Do you have any mints?"

"Stop worrying. You're going to get sick," Francis said.

In only a short while, Arthur begrudgingly brought Alfred his pajamas and opened the closet door for the bird to hop inside and transform without anyone seeing him. He thought he heard the eagle chuckle at this in his own cute little way before taking the bundle in his beak and hobbling into the closet. Arthur then set to work with a basin washing off Matthew's arms and wondering to himself just what Alfred meant by biting his own brother's fingers.

"Y'know, some people really _like_ transformation, dude — Woah!" It was an irritatingly familiar voice which Arthur was both annoyed and relieved to hear. The closet door swung open, and a thankfully clothed Alfred collapsed under his own weight and crashed to the floor.

"Hold still, love. Knitting flesh is a delicate process," Arthur whispered when Matthew whipped his head around.

"Dang knees! I donafta worry about you guys in bird form! Ugh, my head feels weird. Ugh, my _whole body_ feels weird. I just need to eat something. Hey, guys? You said there'd be food! Where is it!? I'm wasting away over here! JK, I'm in my civilian form. Why does Francy look like an ass!? Ha-ha! Ass! Wow! There's like, no blood or anything! My wing, I mean, my _arm!_ It doesn't hurt like hell anymore!"

"Shut the hell up!" Lovino shrieked. "Do you have any idea what time it is!?"

Alfred's sky-colored eyes burst with excitement. After awkwardly flapping his arms a few times, he pushed himself up and walked on his toes over to the green-winged fairy, then playfully tousled Lovino's hair. "Thanks a million, midude! I'm indebted to you or somethin'!"

"Never touch that curl, you bast—Ah! Changeling! Stay away from me!"

"Leave him alone. He's had quite the evening," Francis said, putting a hand on the changeling's shoulder.

"You've had quite the evening, too, my man. Arts! How'd you do this!? He looks hilarious! The beard and everything! You're makin' me feel guilty that I couldn't be here to watch!"

"Do try to keep your voice down," Arthur replied.

"How can I _not_ talk!? I'm not limited to just squeaks and squawks anymore! I'd keep the wings and the eagle vision, maybe the talons, too, but it does feel good to be back! Mattie? Mattie! You were totally gonna sacrifice yourself, weren't you!? Wow, I was so scared! I thought the dog-man was gonna eat me! But you shoved me under you like that and held me? Er, you protected me, at least. Gah, you're the best brother ever!"

"Francis, get that moronic creature of darkness something to plug his gob," Arthur snapped.

Yao, in this moment, had resorted to hiding his head like Lovino.

Francis understood and brought out the basket of sandwiches that fortunately hadn't been touched by the frost. He'd just barely offered it to Alfred when the changeling snatched it out of his hands with a mere "Thanks, Francy" and began inhaling them so fast Matthew had to tell him to breathe so he wouldn't choke.

Luckily, this shut him up enough for Arthur to finish with the worst of Matthew's injuries. It was then Matthew who got up from the table and held his arms wide for his brother to enter. Alfred didn't even need an invitation. He locked Matthew in a tight squeeze and nuzzled his cheeks against his shoulder in a brotherly sort of way.

"Uh, you're welcome for earlier. That was… really scary," Matthew whispered so just Alfred could hear.

"It was. I didn't know my feathers could poof up that much. But really. Thanks for coming to get me. I never would've found my way out of that mess on my own, and even if I'd found _them,_ who knows what would've happened to me."

"I'm just happy you're safe. You should try a mint, though."

Alfred giggled. "Different forms like different flavors."

"Care to tell us what you two saw? What did you mean by the dog-man? Did he… find us?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

Alfred's comfort in the embrace expired, and he pushed away. "The dog-man found us, all right. And the dark wizard found the dog-man, and we found both of them. They're right outside of town as we speak. The dark wizard… he's Gilbert. Gilbert, _my_ Gilbert, is the dark wizard we've been chasing. Oh, it's weird to hear myself say that out loud."

"Did you see him?"

"Yes, I saw him. He's Gilbert. Same face. Same voice. Same attitude. Just… evil this time. And to think my letter brought him here. He lied in the letter he sent to me. He wasn't gonna tell me anything at all."

"Did he and Ludwig speak to each other like they were brothers?"

Yeah. Ludwig called Gilbert his brother. He never told me he had a brother! A _human_ brother, no less. I… I'd never imagine he'd be a dark wizard! He wants the amulet so he can turn humans into birds and eat their eggs in omelets!"

"Is there any chance Ludwig is beguiled?" Francis asked.

"I don't think he is," said Matthew. "Ludwig said he'll stop at nothing to get the amulet so he can undo his curse. That must mean Gilbert isn't the one who cursed him, and he must trust Gilbert a lot. Somehow, they _are_ brothers. A human and a changeling."

"Did you say a… changeling?"

It was Lovino who had spoken. The question was quiet, as if improper. Alfred looked at him curiously. The one with the broken wing had lifted his head. He stared back, though fearfully.

"Yeah. A changeling."

"With Ludwig?"

"Yeah. Do you know anything about it?"

"He was helping a changeling earlier today. It was hurt and unconscious. He said it's cruel to leave them without care, even if they're evil, heartless shadow-freaks, and… don't hurt me, please. Don't take me away. Don't drink my blood or kill me with your horrible gaze or twist and stretch your ugly form until you look like me! And don't you dare beguile me like you beguiled Felice!"

Alfred smiled in spite of himself. "Chill out, dude. I have fangs, but I'm not a blood-sucking freak. I'm not the one who did that to your brother either. Come on, you think I'd do something awful to you when you fixed my wingy-arm? It hurt so bad, I thought it was gonna bust apart before you did whatever that was. How'd you learn to heal so well?"

"Birds fly into windows at stupid Antonio's mansion," Lovino muttered.

"Well, you healed this bird, and on my star-faced honor, I won't lay a finger on you," Alfred said, a shiny grin spreading on his face.

Lovino frowned darkly and hid his face again. "There's no way the changeling he found is his brother Gilbert," he murmured in distraction from wings and flying. "It makes no sense. He wouldn't be brothers with a changeling, and the dark wizard is a lie. Ludwig's brother is a magic collector, not a wizard. Why would a changeling call itself a wizard anyway?"

"But he is! I saw both of them together! Ludwig and his dark wizard changeling brother."

"Psh, yeah right. And the changeling had cuts on its feet."

"Yep. And a pointy nose and long, bony fingers and a pet bird with chubby cheeks and yellow feathers."

"Pet bird? What do you mean?"

"Gilbert has a pet bird he enchanted. It delivers letters for him."

"With chubby cheeks and yellow feathers."

"Yep!"

"Like… like the one Ludwig's brother sent… that flew over and started snuggling with the changeling."

"Might not want to mess with him, Alfred. He's beguiled, too," Arthur warned.

"A yellow bird… no, it wasn't the changeling's _pet._ A changeling wouldn't have a _pet._ But… how would _you_ know about Gilbert's bird?" Lovino asked, an angry suspicion bubbling up in his voice.

"Because I know Gilbert, and Gilbert's a changeling just like me," Alfred pressed. "That bird is his pet. Did you meet it?"

"But… but that's impossible! Ludwig is a good person! He's all right! You're the problem! Feliciano says you're lying, but… it can't be true! How could that possibly be his brother!? A-and the bird! It… the bird _knew_ the changeling!"

Lovino started to rise from his seat. He looked wildly at the mercenaries. A dark red haze was beginning to fog up the green in his eyes, but at the same time, something was keeping it at bay. The fairy reached up and kneaded his forehead.

"It's… not true," he hissed. "He just said it's cruel to leave injured changelings. He's just compassionate. But..."

"I told you he's beguiled, Alfred. You just set him off!"

"I didn't know he'd met the little bird! I just assumed it flew back to Gilbert! Oh, but maybe it flew to Ludwig instead. Oh, crap, what if the letter he sent to me was really meant for Ludwig? And I was disguised as Ludwig, so the bird thought I was him! That makes a lot of sense, actually."

"Well, if you're such brilliant beings of magic, maybe you can help that poor fairy!" Francis snapped.

Lovino had stumbled. He clutched his forehead and continued to hiss at some invisible presence. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he maintained a calm, rational expression as if the obvious pain didn't even exist. "No, it's not true. But. _.._ I don't believe it. I _can't._ I know he's a good person, but… I _know_ he's a good person! I _know_ I can't trust them! They shattered my wing, but... Dammit, _shut up!"_

Then he collapsed.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **CHAPTER 60. WOOP!**

 **For anyone confused on the game, Old Maid is played with a number of players in a circle. Players take turns passing hands face-down to the left, and each player selects a card from said hand and discards any pairs made by color, rank, or both on the table until one player is left with only the "Old Maid" card and loses.**


	61. At Long Last

"Where are you going?"

Alfred snapped his head to the left, his body freezing with animal quickness. He scanned the darkness, but in this shape, his night vision was quite poor, and it took the adjusting of his eyes for him to notice the silhouette of a man with messy hair sitting in a wicker chair next to the bed. Alfred blinked. The shadows worked themselves into his vision, and he could make out what he knew to be the face of Arthur in the darkness. Great stars, the shadows under his eyebrows made his eyes look like pits of never-ending… well… shadows.

"I'm… um… going out," he replied softly.

"No you're not. You're going to get back into that blanket nest of yours and get some sleep. You need it."

Arthur had a point. The memory of turning into an eagle and spinning with Gilbert seemed like ages ago, yet it had only been the previous morning. And changing his shape so drastically, from man to eagle and back to man, didn't come without fatigue. He was sure he'd eaten enough to regain a goodly amount of strength, but he knew sleep would restore him completely. At the very least, it would help him get used to this shape again. Fitting into a different body like a glove wasn't always as easy as he thought.

But Alfred's mind wouldn't let him sleep. His damn changeling impulses were humming and crackling, bringing a bombardment of stressful thoughts to the front of his consciousness. Where was Gilbert now? What was he plotting? What were he _and_ Ludwig plotting? Did Gilbert still like Alfred? Had Alfred been stupid to trust him? Had Gilbert taken advantage of his weakness and ignorance? Why hadn't he told Alfred about his other side? Was it safe to call it betrayal, or was Alfred simply angry at himself for not knowing?

"I need to go fly," he said, an edge in his voice. "Just a night flight to calm me down. Just a short one. I need to feel the wind in my feathers."

When Arthur spoke, his voice was strangely full of concern. "You'll get caught. You'll be shot by an iron arrow or snapped up by a large furry beast with very sharp teeth. Don't try telling me you won't."

"I won't!"

"You will. Better not risk it. Now just lie down and close your eyes. Count eagles if you have to. Think of something peaceful. Your most pleasant and peaceful memory. That's what I do when I can't sleep."

"But I… you can't tell me what to do."

There was a stark silence after he said it. It lingered for such a time that Alfred was ready to forget Arthur's opposition and simply bolt out the door. Arthur appeared to shiver a little before speaking fluidly again. The concern in the magician's voice rose and mixed with a powerful yet subdued authority. "Catching the dark wizard for us last night was a great accomplishment for you and the rest of us. But you're thirteen, Alfred. You needn't feel so overly responsible. The dark wizard is not yours to thwart alone. That's why the rest of us were hired. Now please, just try and enjoy a good night's sleep."

The words sank into Alfred's mind. He took a deep breath, then returned to the corner where he'd made a nice little nest for himself and curled up into a ball.

No, this wasn't right. His body felt all wrong. His bones were too solid and heavy. He was supposed to have giant wings to tuck his head under and twiggy legs to fold beneath him. What was he supposed to do with these long, clunky limbs and this short, meaty neck? He didn't even have _feathers._ The stubbly hair blanketing his skin was a poor excuse for natural insulation from the cold. And this room was _cold._

"I want to be an eagle," he murmured. "I miss all the extra colors eagle eyes can see. Bluey-purple-orange and greenish-red and the one I just call 'glackle' 'cause it doesn't look like any regular colors."

"Go to sleep, Alfred. Your magic needs rest."

"You don't know anything about my magic."

"You're right. I don't. But I know shapeshifting must take enormous concentration, and that won't help you if you're trying to put your mind at ease."

Alfred sat up cross-legged and glared at the magician. "Why are you still up?"

"I'm making sure this unruly spell within Lovino completely heals and stabilizes itself so I don't have to risk killing him."

"It's that bad, huh?"

"When he fought against the spell, he ripped quite an impressive hole in its fabric. Unluckily for him, the bugger started knitting itself together again after it knocked him out. I have to make sure it continues knitting together and doesn't decide to attack him further. The last thing we need is this thing sapping his magic."

"Do you think he'll remember fighting?"

Arthur shook his head. "He didn't know _what_ he was fighting in the first place. I suppose I'll have to ask him when he awakes, but for now, his health is what's most important. Everyone knows a fairy dies when his magic fails."

Alfred got up and went over to hover above where Arthur sat. Lovino was lying in the bed on his side. He looked relaxed enough. His soft yet work-battered hands were loosely clutching a pillow, and his breathing was even and gentle. A beam of moonlight spread and pooled upon his tanned cheeks, making them look cool and refreshed from the sun's harmful rays. Alfred didn't really know him, but he still felt a little wave of sympathy for the fairy. Who knew how the dark wizard's wicked magic had worked its way into his mind and twisted his conscience?

Alfred frowned. There it was again. The thought of Gilbert, his old mentor, really being a monster like he said. Even remembering how brutal the older changeling's "training" had been couldn't lead him to understand the revelation. Gilbert had a good heart, right? Or was he simply an empty man? A shallow, selfish, wicked creature who couldn't look beyond his own beakish nose?

"You're worried about Gilbert, aren't you?"

Alfred snapped back to reality with a yawn. "Yeah. I am. I don't know. I just… I can't understand it. I may have only known him for a summer, but he was so good to me. He understood me for who I was, and I knew I could trust him. He was the first real friend I ever had."

"Disowning your brother?" Arthur chuckled.

Alfred's expression turned thoughtful. He strode to the window and crossed his arms over the sill to peer up at the inky sky and twinkling stars.

"You can confide in friends. Tell them anything and know they'll still like you and respect you. I loved Matthew as my brother, and I still do, but I couldn't confide in him. I was just too afraid."

"Would you call him your friend now? He rescued you from the dog-man and was going to use himself as a shield to protect you. And this comes after he's learned your secret."

"That's not the only reason I was scared."

"Oh?"

Alfred hesitated. His face tensed, as if he were reliving memories he'd rather not remember. "Can I confide in you, Arthur? You're my friend."

Tedious silence. Then Arthur said, "I suppose you can trust me."

Oh, this balking was going to end right here and now. "You're my friend, Arts. Just say it. Maybe you're afraid of me, but you can cut the 'I can't be friends with changelings' crap because I know you're only pretending you still agree with society to give yourself some illusion of wisdom. I may not look it, but I really can read people. I can read them better than your socialite eyes ever could. And you wanna know what I see when I look at you? I see someone who's been scared out of his pants and made to feel like an outsider so many times, he can't even recognize true friendship when it's offered.

"You gave me a chance to join you on the mission. You thanked me when I saved your life. You _protected_ me in the capital even though you ended up so embarrassed. You stressed to me how important it was to keep myself safe when we were under that table. You healed me even when I whined for you to stop. You trusted me with your most secret and dark possession. You let me help you figure out the fairy charm. If I didn't know, I'd say those are all things a true friend would do."

When this did nothing, he continued.

"Some people tell the truth, but no one will believe them because of a bad reputation. They think the 'real' truth still hasn't come yet, and they won't give the people telling the truth a chance."

There came a muted "Mm."

"I'm not saying you can't be wary or cynical. Those're good character traits for you. They make you stronger. You're independent and can form your own opinions despite being afraid of people hating you. I'm saying I never intended to hurt you, and I'm not trying to hurt you now. Can you just trust me? You're lonely, Arthur. It's not fun to be lonely."

This time, the silence was deafening. Disturbingly so. Alfred looked back to make sure he hadn't turned Arthur to stone. But there the magician sat in the chair next to the bed looking lost in the scurrying static of his own internal monologue.

"No one will give them a chance…" he suddenly echoed, his voice a bit quavery and weak.

"No one gives either of us a chance. So give me a chance, and I'll give you a chance. I know it's weird. Men talking about their feelings is _bleh_ and all, but… if you feel like you need to be heard, I'll listen, and I won't judge you. I might laugh and poke fun, but friends do that, too."

Yet another pause ensued. Then Arthur started to _laugh._ Admittedly, it was a stiff, frozen, nervous laughter that sounded half like choked back tears, but laughter nonetheless. He stood up and came over before offering his hand out to Alfred.

"A changeling giving me a chance? Preposterous."

Alfred's face stretched into a sparkling grin. "An oh-so modern and civilized fairy giving me one? Peculiar."

"I'm terrified of you, Alfred."

"I know."

They shook.

For a while, they stood side by side staring up at the stars, various topics catching their interest. Alfred's anxiety about Gilbert hadn't dissipated, and it was so nice to have someone to talk to.

"What were you going to say earlier?" Arthur asked. "About being afraid to tell Matthew your secret?"

Alfred frowned. He had been hoping this topic would disappear from memory. But it came flooding back to him now. He knew he had a friend to confide in, but it wasn't Matthew, and he'd been hoping to keep this between him and Matthew… eventually. Besides, he didn't want to jeopardize this newfound trust!

Before he knew it, he found himself talking about it anyway. Any topic that could distract him from Gilbert was a good one.

"It was before Dinsmoor took me in. I was just a baby, and I was dying. My body was so sun-baked and shriveled, I really was nothing more than a moving corpse. Every day, the vessel for the powerful magic inside me became weaker, and the energy started eating me even faster. Food and love. That's all I thought about. Like a wild animal.

"Then one day, when I had almost given up hope and was ready to let it tear me apart once and for all, I found this beautiful little creature. Half human, half moose. He was crying, and I knew he must have everything I didn't. Instinct drove me. I took his shape and instantly found myself a hundred times stronger. Well, weak from transformation, but way stronger than my true form. And then I picked up a stone, and… I was going to kill Matthew."

Just as expected, Arthur shifted uncomfortably next to him.

"But I made a mistake! His father came to find him because he was crying. He was all upset 'cause Francis had left and wasn't coming back. Matthew hugged his father around the legs 'cause he wasn't tall enough to reach his torso. I watched it happen, then something awoke inside of me. I got so much angrier that people loved him and not me, but I couldn't bring myself to kill him then. I'd get killed myself, and then no one would be happy. So in my frustration, I drove the stone into my own leg so they would find me and love me, too. I slipped back in my appearance 'cause it hurt really bad.

"I was hysterical. But the next thing I knew, I was waking up, and my brother was stitching my leg. That's when I realized what I'd been planning to do, and I just started crying and crying. I never got over myself. I've never told him. I lied to cover it up when we reunited. Stupid story about me falling and breaking my leg. I drove a _stone_ into my leg. That's why there wasn't a blood trail. I was going to tell him earlier tonight, but I was too scared. I feel so _awful._ Like I really am what all the stories say I am. Just a monster who steals away poor kids and sits happy and fat in their place."

"Is… is this your deepest secret?"

"Yeah. Don't worry. I'm not trying to make you tell me what you did or anything. I just hate this feeling. Now I'm all embarrassed."

"Let me read _you_ , Alfred. You're not trying to become a hero because you believe you were destined to be one, nor because you want the glory. It's because even you aren't completely proud of who you are. You want to change your image, to both yourself and everyone else. Prove yourself. Is that it?"

"Ouch. You got me. But I don't need to prove myself to _everyone._ Just to one person. Just one person who needs a changeling's help."

"Well, in that case, you've already saved me from poison, so that's a job well done. Feliciano is a bonus."

Alfred's smile returned. "I guess you're right. What about you? What's something you've always wanted?"

"Me? Oh, that's simple. To become a magician and start my own guild once I've gained enough prestige. The latter will never happen now with my reputation in tatters, but I'm doing my job as we speak." He returned to the wicker chair and ran a few fingers over Lovino's forehead.

"So you help break spells, and you learn about them?"

"I cast and create spells on commission, observe and break harmful spells within others, and report to my own guild on the results of personal experiments. Although, my guild has always been rather venomous toward me, and after my conviction, they started to treat me like a complete rogue without the right of opinion. It's only recently that I regained the privilege of my magician's license and could attend their meetings again. But it's not like I can contribute anything anyway, what with the scrutiny I'm under."

"You've got a lot to share after this mission," Alfred chuckled.

Arthur clicked his tongue. "I'm not supposed to be performing dark magic, remember? And even if I was allowed, _they_ wouldn't have it. Spearca Caeruleum is mostly made up of professors and scholars from Yaits. Educated men and women who didn't hesitate to vaunt shamelessly about the ban's victory all those years ago. I don't know why I joined them anyway. Heads up their arses."

"My stars, milord, you're even more cynical than I thought!"

"I'm not cynical! I'm of the scorned and shunned opinion that dark magic should've never been banned. _I'm_ the one who's called 'insensitive' and a 'suspicious character'. Fine, I understand that it may be _easier_ to paint dark magic as a great evil and the reason for all those swapped children, but there's no viable evidence to prove it's the reason those children were swapped. They even danced around finding evidence back then. Just took the hysteria's word that dark magic and its users had done _something_ despicable and could never be redeemed. We call ourselves modern and civilized, but at what cost?

"We knew how to dance on the wind in ancient times. Both sides of the magical coin are in the wingless fairy's blood and history. For Titania's sake, we're not even 'light fairies'. _Magis omnis_ means 'All-gifted one'! We wouldn't be where we are today without magicians who practiced powerful arts and were respected for their talents. And there used to be something preached about called the Grand Energetic Balance. If the world's magical energy remains balanced, the world's magical beings remain healthy and powerful.

"I realize now that's why we left bowls of cream out for the changelings. So we could _respect_ them even if they didn't respect us. So we could keep magic in balance despite our fears. And if magic _isn't_ balanced anymore, and no one has the objective brains to realize it, who knows how long it will be before… Oh, we shouldn't be talking about this. You really must get some sleep, Alfred. I can tell you're not listening to me."

"Hey, what did I say earlier? I'm listening to you. I just feel sleepier now that I could share my own issues with someone. There is one thing I wanna know from you, though."

"I'm not telling you about my spell, Alfred."

"Yes you are."

"Oh no, you can _'take my hands if we be friends'_ all you like, but I still retain my privacy, and—"

"I figured it out."

"You did not figure it out."

"Well, not completely. That's why I need you to fill in the blanks. I know you were lonely, and the only person you could trust was yourself, so you used your blood to create someone just like you who would agree with you. And when he didn't want to agree with you 'cause o' some magic loophole, he ratted you out. Wanted to be called Peter, did he?"

A _very_ long pause. Alfred's smirk stretched wider and wider when he saw Arthur nearly twitching in astonishment.

"H-how did you…"

"You shouldn't drink, milord. It makes you say crazy things. When I found you that night, you were complaining that someone called Peter wasn't listening to you, and that Peter wasn't his name. Later on, you told me about the blood spell. How it's supposed to hold forever after one casting. I asked you about animation. You said you didn't use any necromancy, nor a spell to enhance anyone. But I could tell you were nervous.

"It was just tonight when I could connect everything together. You said you gave me a hint that night when I told you that story. You said the mercenaries are like blind followers who let me do and eat whatever I want. _Blind follower_ _._ That was the hint. Not a zombie, but someone to give you the right of way and listen to you without question. Someone to _obey_ you and never talk back or tell you what to do. And now that I know just how lonely and desperate for a friend you are, it's easy to see how you'd do something like that. Only you didn't read the fine print. Your spell was 'leaked' because you let him escape."

"Alfred…"

"Yep, milord?"

"That's really impressive."

"I know."

"But that's not what I did."

"No, it _has_ to be what you did."

"Hear me out. You're very _close._ But I wasn't looking for a blind follower."

"But all the other stuff is true? Peter's, like, a clone of you? The reason it's obvious you cast the spell is because he looks and acts just like you, isn't it? But he's got blue eyes."

"How did you—"

"Don't get drunk."

Arthur half sighed, half laughed. He held his face in his hands, letting out a long groan. "I don't suppose you want me to try explaining all of it, do you? You should be asleep, and I have a dark spell to monitor."

"Nope. I want you to tell me all of it. Right now. We'll regret it later, but I figured you out. I get to know all the details."

When the magician revealed his face again, his monstrous eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were in a tight, embarrassed smile. A faint pink dusted his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"Alfred, do you know what a golem is?"

"Something like exactly what I just said?"

"A golem is basically a blind _servant_ animated from inorganic material. They can be made out of stone, glass, wood, or anything else that can be crafted into a decent fairy shape. I made mine out of steel."

* * *

 **~N~**

 **You are now free to berate me for leaving you on the edge of your seat with unanswered questions. :3 But if you're dying for more, feel free to read "Midsummer Moon Brew", a one-shot I just published featuring Gilbert and little Luddy making a potion together.  
**


	62. Potency of Truth

A red moon rose that night. It was huge and forboding, and it demanded attention from all who looked upon the summer darkness with its eerie, rusty light. The red color dimmed and faded as it rose up further into the sky, but there existed a celestial sheen that only those with an eye for magic could see, and to them, the moon retained its unusual color until long after it had left the horizon.

The red moon hung above as the ultimate witness to the events of a certain outdoor amphitheater. It was circular, and seats lined each level in rings. At one end, on a platform, sat an enormous golden chair, the back of which was imprinted with four great butterfly wings. At the other end was a clock face with both hands now pointing to the number twelve like a skeletal black tree planted in cursed soil.

 _Bong. Bong. Bong._

Arthur wished he could drop to the ground and lie there clutching his aching stomach until he passed out. His skin had taken on a faint blue pallor from the truth potion's sickening potency, and his chest felt like ice from the general nerves. Yet he stood up straight as a gentleman should in the center of the amphitheater and locked his eyes not on the high judge sitting in her ridiculous chair, but on the moon.

 _Bong. Bong. Bong._

 _A red moon is full of power. I just have to be confident. Tell them what they want to hear… and still retain some mite of dignity. No pain, no gain, eh? But no! Why me? This can't be happening! If I could only turn back time! Or just shoot me with your silver arrow and let me dream, fierce Diana!_

 _Bong. Bong. Bong._

The shrewd moon gave no response to his wishes, leaving Arthur to stand, sick and worried sicker, with hundreds of curious eyes settling on his frazzled form. Somewhere up there sat his brothers, acquaintances, colleagues, and complete _strangers._ Traditional Fae Midnight Trials were entirely different from modern trials. For one thing, _anyone_ could spectate and react to the goings-on. Who knew who was up there watching and waiting for his fate as whimsical _entertainment?_

 _Bong. Bong. Bong…_

The high judge stood and spoke, a spell making her voice boom throughout the amphitheater. "The clock has struck midnight. Let it be known that the trial of Lord Arthur Kirkland, accused of the use and concealment of illegal dark magicks, has now commenced. Let it also be known that the accused will have the privilege of speaking, but no use of his magical powers, and that he is under the influence of a tongue-quickening drug, which was made in a federally-monitored environment by licensed and trusted professionals."

 _It's a magic fucking potion, you wankers, and it's turning my insides to soap,_ Arthur thought just as another wave of pain rolled through his abdomen. _I could fake it. Just fake fainting. They'd have to reschedule! But no, all those people watching… they'd think I fainted from nerves. I'd be called a coward!_

"The accused will now have his speech-suppressor removed."

Two guards approached. One held Arthur's hands while the other unlocked the metal band and brought it away from his throat. He gasped before doubling over and belching out a stream of glistening blue bubbles.

There was a lot of oath-taking and rules-of-conduct jargon afterwards. The Council of Fairies sat beside the judge, peering at him with curious eyes.

Arthur knew that in the end none of it would matter. The blood and magic tests had proven he was guilty of a powerful dark enchantment. This trial was but a spectacle. A ritual of defamation. And the witnesses… oh, anyone who knew him would be _roasting_ him. Yes, they'd all have something to say. That was how the world operated. Have a grudge? A dislike? A minor discomfort? Just incriminate the man. Stain his reputation and see him tumble and fall. Laugh at him as he withers away, his name soiled and his work voided into _nothingness—_

"Arthur Fitzwilliam Kirkland, did you or did you not use the forbidden arts to enchant a steel automaton and breathe into it its own mind and will?"

Soap. Sickening soap. Slipping, foaming, bubbling, urging the truth along from his brain to his slippery tongue. "I did! But I was unaware that the golem could possess a mind and will of its own. It was the spell's fine print which caught me off guard long after I initially cast it."

"Tell us how you cast the spell."

There was no time for composure. Arthur spilled himself. The truth came in tidal waves, but he saw only memories blurring his vision and stifling sound.

* * *

He'd made the automaton himself. Really, it was embellishment to call the thing an automaton, for it was really nothing more than a few steel bars and gears twisted and welded together until they took the vague shape of a person. It hadn't hands nor fingers, feet nor toes. No facial features nor hair nor ears nor extremities. The thing could've been a lawn decoration. But it would work for his purposes. The dark enchantment would give it a much more suitable appearance.

He was far too giddy that spring evening when he sent Mrs. Gimble off with a spell of gold and Thyrvasser to keep the mosquitoes away from her porch. Arthur grinned at the setting sun. It would rain tomorrow. He could feel it in the air. But tonight, the sun defied expectation, and so he would defy the institution, which was naught but an artificial invention of man.

Arthur had never tried animation before. His work with life-related magic usually pertained to whenever he attempted to make his eyebrows look more… normal. Every dark spell he tried ended up backfiring, of course. Nothing could scratch the old Kirkland Curse. Good queen, the furry things were even _fireproof,_ and once, in the dead of night, he had sworn he felt them wriggle on their own.

But he'd grown plenty used to them over the years and needn't ponder them now. This was a night for experimentation and celebration. A _golem._ Arthur supposed he could use an enchanted servant's help with cleaning and organizing the manor when he was now its only resident.

Besides, this enchantment was particularly complex and arduous to work, and he sneered thinking of how he would boast to his brothers about his inborn powers — something they _despised —_ and about how he would walk into guild meetings with a literal dark secret. He'd created a being that would listen to him and do everything he said! And the guild blathered on with their ever-tedious leveling of magical intrigue.

His sneer turned to light laughter as he descended the stairs behind the secret bookshelf in the library. It turned to all-out guffawing when he reached the bottom and lit the candles. Texts and tomes the Council would _pale_ at were open and strewn across the floor. Beautiful calligraphy in bright green ink was painted across stiff, crumbling pages.

And all this had been left in the manor after the ban! For all Arthur cared, these forbidden writings were Lord Kirkland's possessions, and he could do whatever he bloody wanted with them. Tonight, he was going to turn that hunk of metal standing oddly in the center of the secret lair into an artificial being that moved and did what it was told! A henchman just for him! Just for Arthur!

He slipped off his waistcoat and rolled up his sleeves past the elbows, then ran his fingers through his white-wine hair, grinning and giggling in a most undignified way.

"Right then. I've got to follow the diagrams this time. Make sure no thread of magic is out of place. It's good they're printed nice and big in this volume. I should have no trouble as long as my concentration remains untainted."

He closed off distractions and let his fairy senses truly awaken. For but a sharp second, he could see only the magical constitution of things, and his whole form appeared to him as a blindingly green network of sparkling fibers. Then he interlaced his fingers as the book indicated and began bending and twisting his energies.

He followed the diagrams and formed shapes familiar and unfamiliar, visible and invisible, concrete and abstract. His fingertips sparked and glowed as he worked. His hands followed, and soon even his chest under his shirt was lit up by the green static spiking and shifting under his command. A soft, rhythmic force blew through his hair and kissed his tingling ears.

But this was no everyday magic. The power he worked with grew more and more unruly. More wild and unrestrained. Tiny bolts of lightning flickered between his fingers, and he had to bite his lip so as to not tense up in pain. The high frequencies vibrated under his skin and bounced off the walls of the room until he could actually hear them ringing like tiny bells.

Arthur's physical well-being was soon tested. He was weakening at an alarming rate. His body strained to control the dark magic he conjured up from within, and all his vitality was spent focusing on the spellwork. His muscles ached. His nerves were on fire. As much as he'd practiced the forbidden arts in secrecy, he'd learned them haphazardly, and his untempered frame was bearing the consequences.

When he had finally finished, a misty green haze hung around the steel body like a veil. Arthur carefully rubbed his hands together to assuage their shakiness. He had to lean against the wall for a bit, kneading his throbbing chest and breathing deeply. His vision swam, and his skin itched as his blood rushed beneath.

After steadying himself for what seemed like eternity, he took a pin and pricked the palm of his right hand. A ruby droplet of blood bubbled up. He maneuvered his hand to be right over the top of the automaton and its veil. The droplet slid down his palm and rolled off his wrist. It fell through dead air and landed with the tiniest _plip_ on the steel figure's head.

" _This is the blood of your creator. His magic and his life. Take it and live as he lives."_

His tongue was _pulled_ in the direction of the pronunciations. He could feel the weight of the spell's gravity tugging on him, draining him further still, and as soon as he finished, the emerald veil grew darker and darker until it pulsed almost black with woven threads of emerald static snaking around it.

 _Guess I'll have to see if I've blundered,_ he thought just as his legs finally gave out. He managed to catch himself on his elbows, but he trembled to stay even up this much and soon succumbed to his utter magical and physical exhaustion. The wooden floor was cold but smooth on his cheek.

Behind him now, the veil shrunk around the figure. It squeezed and shaped itself over the steel skeleton. Metal limbs gained volume, and metal coldness gained warmth. The spectral shape of a person formed over where the sculpture had once stood, and as the veil reformed and filled in all the imperfections, the ghastly green-black slowly lightened to a familiar fair color — that of Arthur's own complexion.

He had to rub his eyes and look again when he saw the true nature of what he'd created. It was not a crude lawn decoration. It was a _boy._ It was Arthur in the flesh as though he were younger. Twelve, perhaps? No, the damn eyebrows had thickened and darkened at thirteen. That was how the curse worked.

He was wearing what looked like a duplicate outfit of the one his creator had, but he wasn't looking at it. He stood stiffly, his empty gray eyes trained only on Arthur.

The magician forced himself into a sitting position. Every muscle screamed. He was in no shape to celebrate the spell's success. He wasn't even in shape to pitifully drag himself up the stairs. But perhaps…

"Fetch me a hot water bottle and the pillows from a guest room."

The golem nodded and ascended the stairs, only to return with the exact request.

* * *

"Creating a golem requires an incredibly powerful enchantment, Lord Kirkland. Were you fully aware of its potential?"

"I expected nothing less than full obedience and was delighted the golem could perform tasks as I liked without me having to explain them. He was like a true duplicate of myself, and I would only expect as such, being that he was animated with my own blood and magic."

"Now, that fine print you spoke of…"

"I was not aware of that, no."

"Not aware that imbuing a bit of yourself into an inanimate object was a reckless use of your gifts?"

"I got that part! The other part about acknowledging the golem as a separate entity. That's the part I wasn't aware of. I didn't know that any part of the enchantment had so heavily to do with giving the golem a name."

"He gave it a _name!"_ One voice swelled above the rest in a hoot of laughter. _Allistor._ Arthur didn't need to eye the crowd to see his fiery-haired brother tearing up and squeezing both arms around Gareth and Jack's shoulders while Cearul looked about ready to either smack him over the head or burst out laughing himself.

A Councilman called Podipel was at the Council podium. "Allistor Kirkland, please explain what you know of Lord Kirkland's use of the forbidden arts."

Allistor hiccupped before he was ushered over to the testimony podium. Then he began to speak in that strange and hideous accent he'd picked up from his years in the north. "He's used 'em all his life, melord. Always braggin' to me about it, 'specially through his years at Yaits. Thoo' he was the cleverest of the clever. Thoo' he was a real poonk while the rest of us stuck to our 'umble affairs. I was the one who 'ad to console our poor moom after Artie argued with her about wantin' to stoody magicks. But of coorse, I shood coot him some slock. This spell really nipped his wee—"

"It is this latest offense which we are trying him on. We _know_ from Lord Kirkland's history that he is a suspicious character. What do you know of the golem?"

Oh, Allistor knew plenty.

* * *

"How's your humble sheep farm?" Arthur asked, slapping his brother on the back with a saccharine smile plastered on his face.

"Why are you in such a hellava good mood?"

"Really, tell me about how you just love sheep. Fancy some tea? Please make yourself comfortable."

Allistor instantly had the learned countenance of when he knew Arthur was up to something. Reluctantly, he took a seat in his old armchair and lay his chin in his hand.

"Sheep're well. Expecting a few more lambs this season. I had to go out in the storm last Saturday to help with a birth. Twins. I should be tending to them right now, but you had to call me down here."

"Oh, I mean no rudeness," Arthur smiled. He took his seat in his own chair and gazed out the window with a dreamy yet prideful countenance. "Now, what blend was it you wanted?"

"I don't want tea."

"Well, _I_ want some tea. Fetch me a cup of Earl Grey, will you? You know how I like it."

Without a sound, the golem poked his head into the room and nodded before going off to prepare the tea. Arthur flicked his eyes over to Allistor. The elder gave a cold grin before saying curtly, "You're as mean as a human, Artie."

"You're as dark as a raven," Arthur retorted with his own courteous grin. "I saw a _boggart_ cleaning out your barn last time I visited."

"You made a _golem_ and just have it traipsing around the manor when anyone could stop by. _Yes,_ I deal with boggarts. I've woven enough dark enchantments myself to earn their respect. But at least they can disappear, and I didn't make them."

"So you know about golems?"

"Every underground man knows about golems. Only a sodding _fool_ would go ahead and make one. You realize it's more-or-less a replica of yourself?"

"Of course. That's why he agrees with me. He even looks like me. He's a wonderful companion."

Allistor folded his arms. "You're calling it a 'he'."

"What's wrong with that? I'm a 'he', so he's the same."

Allistor narrowed his eyes at Arthur's interlaced fingers and expectant expression. "It's a rare moment when I'm willing to give _you_ real advice. Now wipe that smug look off your face and listen to your elder brother, Artie. What you're doing here is too reckless for your own good."

The younger was incensed. " _You_ can't go telling me there's something _wrong_ with practicing the forbidden arts. I created him, and I can certainly _hide_ him. You speak to me as if I'm not the one who successfully wrought an ancient and powerful enchantment without lasting physical consequence. Perhaps you should remember all the times you've fainted or coughed out black smoke at _my_ dinner parties."

Allistor shook his head. He stood up from his chair and shot his younger brother a warning look. "Remain neutral. That's all I can say. Don't think of it as your companion. It's not your companion. It's a _thing._ A _thing_ that looks like a person. Just remember that."

"Well, of course I know that. But he's nice to have around."

"For convenience, not for companionship."

"What has this got to do with anything?"

"Don't, under any circumstances, give it a name. That's the most important thing."

"I'm not going to give him a _name._ That's ridiculous. But I don't see the trouble in acknowledging his presence."

"This magic only brings trouble to lonely tossers like you. Just don't give it a name, all right? Now, I have to get back to my humble sheep farm. Who are you calling in next to boast to? Gareth? Gareth won't care. Or why don't you tell _Mum_ how you're going down the same road she did? Pretending the ban doesn't exist only to lose your livelihood—"

"I didn't ask for your sass, you hypocrite."

"Hypocrite? I have a _hobby!_ You're putting your _career_ on the line! There's a reason you were dissuaded from going into this practice, and it's that you can't _help_ but push boundaries—"

"Pushing boundaries! Sure, yes! As in offering my incredible talents to the world? The talents you're _jealous_ of, I might add."

"If you think I'm jealous, you're mad. All I'm saying is that when it's discovered your licensed magician arse did _that,"_ Allistor argued, pointing to the golem, "they're going to tear you down and destroy you, just as you always feared! Or is that what you _want?_ "

Arthur trembled, his mind reaching for an argument of some kind. But his jaw was locked, and his ears were burning. The statement had been so unexpected. Everything had been going so well, and now Allistor had gotten into his weak spot just like he always did.

"I'm really sorry, Artie. Prohibitions always have their dissidents, but it's been almost twenty years, and the country's convinced this is for the best. I do wish it were different sometimes. _I_ wish beyond anything else that it could be different. The, er, the boggarts keep coming to me with this strange illness. They think it's the smog from factories—"

"Oh no, you don't get to empathize with me now. You share no mite of this indignation. They can issue a ban, yes. A document filled with 'progressive' dogma that satisfies the grievances its acolytes invent. But it's the blasted new ideology that I despise beyond all else, and you just admitted you and your 'country' are beguiled by it. Get out. Get out and go shag your sheep and your boggarts. Get out!"

"I'm not a part of the 'country'!"

"Yet you call me a _dissident!_ Get the _hell out!"_

Allistor's expression was only that of concern. But he obliged and headed out of the drawing room toward the entranceway. "Have fun trying to hide this. I'll be at your trial. Probably washed."

* * *

All four brothers acknowledged they knew about Arthur's golem. All four brothers were deemed suspicious characters for failing to alert the appropriate authorities upon learning of Arthur's golem. Arthur didn't care whether every one of them was exiled for conspiring with changelings. All he wanted was to go home and _die._

But no, the trial wasn't over. More witnesses testified about his character. More questions forced words and bubbles out of his mouth. Iron was brought across his skin. Juice was dripped on his ears. And then, only then, when Arthur was sure he was actually going to collapse from pain or fear, they brought _him_ out.

Or rather, he let himself in.

Arthur jolted in fright when the door of the amphitheater behind him was torn from its hinges, a cloud of dust spilling from its ancient boards. The sound of metal screeching against metal ripped through the amphitheater. Arthur took the opportunity to fall, but this wasn't the time to rest.

"Finally, I found it!"

Arthur, shuddering and spluttering, looked up to see _him_ standing in the doorway. A mirror image, yet younger, and with startlingly _ocean blue_ eyes. The youth furrowed great eyebrows in anger when he saw Arthur sitting pitifully at the center of scrutiny. Yet the magician certainly wasn't the center any longer. They were all noticing the resemblance coupled with the child's uncanny demonstration of strength.

"That — That's him! The golem!" Allistor hooted. "So you _did_ give it a name!"

"I've been affirming that this whole night, you shoddy sheep-shagger," Arthur coughed.

He was going to say more, perhaps salvage some twinkling fragment of dignity like a crow, but at that time, the golem ran up and kicked him. He rolled limply onto his back, clutching his middle and clenching his teeth.

The child, a portrait of lost audacity, held himself proudly and spoke. "Of course he gave me a name. He acknowledged that I was separate from himself and worth more than a hunk of metal. So I _became_ more!"

The crowd was silent. The boy's voice was like Arthur's. It _was_ Arthur's. But younger. Higher and sweeter, like a boy against the world without fear.

"I know I'm supposed to be waiting for my turn, but as long as the trial's still happening, if you need a witness, I'm right here! I hate Lord Jerkface as much as you do, plus I understand exactly the nature of his dark enchantment, so I can clear up anything confusing!" He cheered.

"He's so rich," Gareth chuckled.

"Just like our Artie," Allistor laughed.

"W-we understand the enchantment quite well, Peter," an older Councilwoman said.

The boy screwed up his face. "Don't I know it! You old lot spent hours poking me trying to figure me out!"

Gasps echoed around the ring, and Arthur covered his face with his hands. Perhaps it was a _good_ thing he'd lost his will to say exactly what he thought along with his childhood. Oh, if only it were possible to die of embarrassment.

* * *

It was stressful being a gentleman of the time, he decided. Always having to attend and host festivities dressed in the newest fashions. And at every moment, one was to remain agreeable no matter his pride or hidden malice. Else one would become a thing of rumors, which could work more harm than good. Stress was inevitable. No pain, no gain, after all.

All throughout the summer, he'd enjoyed the golem's company. It _was_ embarrassing, to say the least, but Arthur never had to tell anyone. And besides, he'd felt… better… over the last few months. What was it… comforting? Amusing? Just to talk to someone, even if that someone wasn't real? Well, of course it was comforting to know that unreal things hadn't the right of opinion and therefore wouldn't call him a sodding fool or blather on about some unrelated injustice.

He could be disagreeable with the golem. He could cross his legs while sitting and give snarky looks at the newspaper and admit that he _liked_ being the first Kirkland in generations to be so unnaturally blond. He could elaborate on his hopes and fears aloud. And the golem still _served_ him.

Slowly, he stopped making the golem go in the closet when he wasn't needed. He let him accompany him when he roamed through his gardens and carry books for him when he perused through magical texts in his library. The golem seemed more and more lifelike the more time he spent with him, as if he were becoming a true companion, tailored to and in sync with Arthur's soul.

And talking to the golem… well, somewhere in a locked box without a key, buried deep in the recesses of his mind, Arthur knew he was a lonely wreck… but talking to something animate wasn't as bad as talking to something inanimate. He wasn't preaching his problems to a lawn ornament.

And, as he continued to tell himself this, a mad sort of spite and a reckless sort of love made him forget about Allistor's warning, and one night, he jokingly gave the golem a name.

It was two nights before the red moon and the soap when a great storm wracked Gavinshire with sheets of pouring gray rain, and thunder rumbled above like a hungry dragon. Arthur had just taken his bath and was feeling refreshed and ready to let nature's rhythms carry him off to sleep. He called for the golem, and it came to him already bearing his pin-striped pajamas for him to don. He took them and dressed, then told the golem to make sure the doors and windows were locked.

"You're so quiet. It's like one moment you're here, and the next you're gone, and then you're here again. I can never hear you coming or going. Good I'm used to you, else you would give me a fright when I'm reading and forget I ask for tea. Goodnight, now."

The golem only nodded and turned to act on orders.

Arthur turned out the electric lights, blew out the candles in his bedroom, and snuggled cozily under the covers. Tomorrow he had absolutely no appointments. Perhaps he would do some riding or try his hand at the shooting range. Or there was always the opportunity to call on the unicorn breeder again and work up the gumption to actually return home with a foal! The image hung in his mind. Silvery cloven hooves. A long, slender tail. Dazzlingly white fur. A single horn capable of healing even broken hearts…

 _Thump. Thump. Bang._

Arthur pushed himself up. That didn't sound right. Where was the golem? He squinted in the darkness, but the boy hadn't returned.

He called for it as he crept through the hallway, a green flame in one hand giving him light. A sound of splashing made him quite unnerved as he came out of the corridor and onto the landing of the second floor.

Down in the entranceway, water was flooding in through the open door, which swung back on its hinges and rammed repeatedly into the wall. The wind whipped into the house, and thunder clapped painfully loud right outside. The golem was trying again and again to force the door closed, but every time his strength of steel succeeded, the door would blow open again. Arthur rushed down the stairs to help.

"Push it closed, and I'll charm it shut for good!" He shouted over the gale.

The golem seized the unruly door and slammed it shut. Arthur quickly worked a storm-force lock, along with some extra charms for stability. The manor _was_ over a hundred years old. It was probably getting time to renovate some of the shabbier aspects. Maybe bring in those griffin statues everyone seemed to love.

Once the door was good and stuck, Arthur lit up the entranceway and scrutinized the mess. The rugs were soaked through, and the floorboards were splattered. The golem, however, was wet from head to toe, and something about this irked the magician.

"You should've come to fetch me if it was difficult. Look at you. If you were alive… the illusion is good enough. I need to get you dry. We wouldn't want you to rust. You're still metal even if you look like a boy."

So it was Arthur running for towels and not the golem, and it was Arthur wiping the moisture from his body and helping him with a dry set of clothes. (He ended up looking splendid in a sailing suit from Arthur's younger days.)

And then, as he placed his hands on the golem's shoulders, he said jokingly, truly jokingly, "There you go, li'l Peter. All dry and ready for your Saturday shepherd's pie at the in-laws'. Remember to keep your elbows off the table, and don't reach into the cheese dish with your fingers."

"Why would I do something like that? It's improper, you know."

"Yes, yes, good. It's very improper… wait."

"Wait…"

Arthur blinked. An electric zing of magic was prickling his hands from under the fabric of the boy's collar. And then he felt the golem's shoulders _move,_ and then… oh, Titania. The expressionless gray eyes were no longer gray. They were glowing a bright green that slowly softened to a cheerful shade of blue!

"M-my good queen, w-what!? You're not supposed to _move_ unless I tell you to!"

But the golem was moving, and his face was no longer so dead and expressionless. He was peering at his hands and wiggling his fingers, then kicking out his legs and tugging on his ears. His blue eyes darted around curiously at his entire form and being.

"I like being called Peter," he said. "Nice you finally got around to acknowledging me. I'm finally awake!"

"W-what do you mean by that?"

"When you give a golem a name, it becomes independent from yourself."

"The book didn't say that!"

"Well, whatever it said, you didn't read it very carefully. Anyway, I'm just happy I don't have to do anything you say anymore! I've become a real fairy, and I'll just be going~"

If Arthur was ever sure of anything in his life, it was that this encounter was beyond strange. But as one tends to accept anything once a situation becomes strange enough, he leapt into action before "Peter" could make any move and had the boy magically suspended in the air by one ankle.

"Hey! Put me down! You're not my master anymore! I've got my own will now!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it! Peter is not your name, and you were never meant to talk back. Now, you'll change back into a stiff, steel servant, or I'll sell you off to the Black Magic Market. Vlad always finds people to take talking objects."

"I'm not an object! I'm a fairy! You made me with fairy blood! I can remember that! And it's not like I _can_ change back! You've given me a name, and it made me my own person!"

"I was only joking! You're as nameless as the lawn ornament you were before!"

"Lawn ornament? Oh, so you never saw me as the coddled thing you had to say goodnight to just ten minutes ago? I have no choice but to hate you, then. Maybe I can just find someone to show myself to. I _know_ my creation was illegal, and I was technically a slave forced to listen to your sad ramblings, so I'm not on the best terms with you anyhow." He crossed his arms and scowled at his creator.

Arthur's heart froze. Oh, Allistor had warned him, and he'd been careless. And now this… _thing_ was threatening to show himself — _it_ self — to the authorities? And get him convicted? But that was impossible! He knew he would never be convicted for dark magic! He was far too clever! Far too careful! Absolutely invincible!

Whipping his arm around, he threw the boy into the nearest closet and slammed the door — which the boy easily ripped from its hinges.

"Haha! Not even a scratch! You should know how strong being made of steel makes me. Looks like escaping will be easy," Peter said as he clenched his fists. His voice had taken on a tone of dangerous ambition — something that Arthur was unfortunately all too familiar with. He outstretched his fingers, and Peter was up in the air again.

"Let me _go!"_ The boy screeched. Good _gods_ , had Arthur really sounded like that before his voice changed? The timbre had gone from lilting bells to a banshee's shrieking in zero seconds flat, and now it swelled even louder than the thunder.

Steel, steel, how to contain a boy made of steel. Well, that was as puzzling as the boy's free will. What was stronger than steel? Topaz? Diamond? He couldn't fabricate those out of nothing without a demon's help.

Squeezing his grip tighter, he rushed down into the casting lair. He slammed the door, releasing Peter just long enough to work a temporary strength charm on the walls. The boy jumped up and clung around his shoulders. Arthur stumbled from the weight, but he focused on the wall at the other end of the room. He felt for his magic, then for the static in the air. Crackling snakes of electricity crawled over his skin. He directed them at the wall, concentrating as deeply as he could with steel ankles digging into his sides.

"Come on, Yaits' golden boy," he urged. The emerald lightning sparked around him with a low hum. His skin prickled, and his hair stood on end. The air shifted around him. Then he felt a force from the other side of the room. It pulled his magic as he focused and weaved it. His hands tensed up. His clothes clung to him with the staticky force. Peter's grip around him grew tighter. The illusion of his body wasn't enough to keep away the feeling of cold, hard metal bruising Arthur's soft torso. Still, he held one hand outstretched at the wall. Winding, sparkling bolts connected them.

 _Slam._

The force had pulled the golem from his shoulders, and he was presently stuck.

"Good to know you're magnetic," Arthur sneered. He dusted his hands off and smoothed back his sparking hair. "That should hold you until I get a hold of Vlad. Don't underestimate him. Just a few months ago, he sold a cello that played itself. A living lawn ornament will easily go for triple that much."

"At least I wouldn't have to serve you anymore!"

"Don't be cheeky!" Arthur yelled. He slammed the lair's door behind him and headed back upstairs. "So close. So close. Oh, my heart."

He was stunned for the next few hours. The storm had lessened to a comforting rain, but sleep was impossible. He paced around the library, wondering what the next days would hold for him. The magnetism charm would hold. He knew that much. But if it didn't… and if it was discovered he _also_ had connections with a fire demon on the Black Magic Market…

His worries and doubts soon devoured his consciousness. Arthur threw on a pair of work slacks and a freshly-pressed shirt. He rolled up his sleeves and set to work. Forbidden texts were torn from the shelves. He slammed them on the great table in the middle and flipped through their pages, searching for every scrap of knowledge on golems and their natures. Green eyes were wild with sleepless stress, and sweat slid down his temples.

Then, he somehow managed to relax. There was no way he'd be caught. He was Arthur Kirkland. He was the cleverest of the clever. He could hide anything. He'd done it while matriculating at the most prestigious school on the Isle. He'd hidden all those magical fumbles when he tried to alter his eyebrows, for the queen's sake! This was nothing!

"Nothing… nothing. It's nothing. So… so if I just go downstairs, I'll see he's perfectly stuck to the wall. A-and then I'll try and get some sleep. Think about unicorns. Or maybe this is all a dream."

He was almost convinced it really was a dream, but something told him checking the lair was a prudent thing to do. So Arthur crept down the stairs, his heart in his throat, and cracked the door open just a smidge.

"You're still there, aren't you? Golem?"

He found no golems and one hole in the floorboards under the magnetic wall.

To say he cursed was an understatement. Arthur weaved such curses with his words, he could've summoned a demon from the other side of the continent. He checked inside the hole. There was no sign of the boy. He almost fell running up the stairs.

That was when he saw Peter, standing right outside the window in the entranceway and looking evilly smug. Arthur cursed and cursed. He sprinted to the door. Locked. Locked with _magic._ Locked with magic that took far too long to unravel. Just enough time for Peter to make his getaway.

By the time Arthur did unravel every spell he'd put on that damn door, all he could do was stand there in the pouring rain, frozen and freezing and not even realizing that his heart was pounding and he was shivering and his life was crumbling to pieces.

Gone to pieces…

He went inside and started compiling the forbidden texts into a single book, every single fear streaming down his cheeks.

And in the morning, they came to arrest him.

* * *

"There must be a verdict this night," the high judge said.

Arthur was foaming at the mouth. At this point, he wasn't even listening. His mind was still in that memory. Standing so hopeless under the gray streaks of rain knowing he had been defeated. Defeated by such a stupid mistake. He'd been _warned,_ and his pride had made him so damn foolish, and… it wasn't fair, dammit! He _hated_ the boy! He _hated_ those blue eyes and that voice and the disobedience!

"I _hate_ you!" He shouted without thinking. Peter, who stood at the podium, put on a precocious scowl and echoed him.

"I hate you, too!"

The Council murmured for quite some time, and the spectators who hadn't left or fallen asleep were watching with earnest. What would his fate be? Stripped of his powers? Exiled to Amotoile? Transformed into a frog? The third was only fantasy, but he knew some were hoping for it.

He spat a glob of blue foam out into his hands. The chemical taste burned in his mouth. He'd never noticed it before. How funny. Maybe it was just a sign that he'd accepted he was no longer respectable. That he was no longer a man of power or potential. Everything was… gone.

"What have I done? I… I was so great… "

* * *

"But you're still great, aren't you?" Alfred asked, his voice reduced to a whisper.

"Gods, I don't know," Arthur sniffled. He dabbed at one wet eye with his handkerchief. "Sorry, I'm being highly improper. It's just… I've never remembered the trial so vividly before. I always suppress that memory. Or I've seen it so many times in my dreams that it's become routine, and only now do I realize how much it hurt… Now _I_ feel all embarrassed. Having to break down in front of you and blathering on about my past—"

"I'm not just anyone, Arthur. I'm your friend. Really, I think I'm the first real friend you've ever had. You oughtta get used to trusting me. So… um… what happened after?"

"Oh, house arrest, suspension of my license, all that shite. At least I wasn't convicted for casting curses or dealing with demons. Those offenses I'm certain mean life sentences or exile. Yes, real exile. To Amotoile or Volkerburg. Some human country that isn't fond of the fair folk."

"And Peter?"

"The Council offered to destroy him, but I stopped them. I guess I felt my life was over anyway. So they decided since he had no magic of his own, he wasn't a threat to anyone. Peter was granted citizenship, and part of my sentence was to care for him as a family member. I was made to adopt him as my son, but it's easier to think of him as an annoying little brother."

"My speculations about him being a changeling were way off, then," Alfred yawned. "Y'know, I really am getting… sleepy."

"Then get you to sleep already, shadowborn. The moon is descending in the west."

"A red moon?'

Arthur chuckled in spite of himself. "No, just a pale one. Just a pale one."

"Mm, goodnight, milord. Keep Lovi alive for us."

"I didn't become a magician just to show off. Goodnight, my friend."

And with those words, Arthur felt more at ease than he had in years.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **D'AAAAWWW! I had so many feels while putting this together. Was it worth the wait? (And the length?) X3 Theme songs for this chapter are "Gone to Pieces" by Nik Kershaw and "Policy of Truth" by Depeche Mode.**

 **Thank you thank you thank you for 50 reviews and ALMOST 10,000 views!**

 **Just to clarify, Allistor is "English" in this AU, hence the spelling of his name, but he used his part of the Kirkland fortune to start his sheep farm in the north and spends much of his time there. His mannerisms have smoothly adapted to the culture and sometimes pop out when he's drunk.**


	63. What it Takes to Be a Human

Sensation. Sickening sensation. Heat on his skin and heaviness in his lungs and a sword in his hands.

On the ground was a man. Or, he _had been_ a man. Now he was no one. His golden eyes were empty, and his skin was paling. A hole torn in his red and gold silk robe was leaking onto the ground.

He looked at the dead man, then to the weapon which had killed him. His breaths were ragged. Sweat dripped down his forehead. It had only taken one blow. One blow, and the man was dead. Then why was he so tired? Why couldn't he breathe?

He saw her in his memories. Her soft brown eyes were always smiling up at him, and she always danced with a graceful spring in her step. In the evenings, when the fields and mountains were painted in beautiful shades of purple and blue and red, he walked with her across the little bridge to the forest path. And there they listened to the trees blowing in the wind and tried to hear the whispering of spirits. She always ran ahead of him, especially in the springtime when the cherry trees turned bright pink, and picked the blossoms off the trees to weave into her hair. _Sakura._

Her name was Sakura. She was his little sister.

And now she was gone. Gone because of this man, this _monster,_ lying dead before him. His whole being was flooded with anger. He'd known from seeing the man cross the bridge that he was the one responsible. He was the one…

* * *

Kiku gasped. He tried looking at the strange man in the present for any more visions, but these were all he'd been given.

His body felt heavy again. He stumbled backwards. The sensations all around him were dizzying. Touch, time, temperature. For a moment, his thoughts were scrambled. Who was the dead man? Why had he killed Sakura? Why was he so important that his slaying was deplorable? And Sakura. She had been real once, just as he had been real once. He'd had a _sister._

The man groaned in his bed. Kiku clumsily stepped back. Why was this man connected, anyway? True, he looked… similar to the dead man… but what could that mean? Kiku had slain him, and his attire hadn't been of this day and age. This present-day man had never even seen Kiku before.

Strange. He made a note not to think about it until later. Not until he had fulfilled his current duties to the ever-truthful Doggie.

Though, now that he thought about it, why exactly was he helping Doggie? Why did he give so much of his time and energy to his and Feliciano's quest? He hadn't been able to do very many good deeds for them as a spirit, so why did he care so much?

Something hot and seething shifted in him as he pondered. It was more powerful than spiritual energy, which meant it must have come from the living. He stared at his hands in shock. _Magic!?_ He was enchanted? But how? When? He concentrated on the foreign flow, but the harder he focused on it, the less of it he could feel until he forgot what he was thinking about all together.

He turned and was about to exit this baffling room to reconfigure his motives when he saw the fairy bound to the chair. Of course! That was why he was in this room. He'd come looking for Feliciano after discovering it wasn't prudent to rescue Lovino in his weak state. The mysterious man gave him access to the powers of the living, and with these, he could at least rescue Feliciano and bring him back to Doggie where he belonged.

The poor boy was asleep. Very carefully, Kiku reached out and poked Feliciano's cheek.

"Fairy-ciano. Wake up. Alfred is not here to freeze you."

Feliciano stirred and cracked his eyes open. If he wasn't bound, he would've jumped straight out of his seat. "Kiku? Is that you? You're — You're not a spirit!"

"Be quiet, Fairy-ciano! We are not alone." He gestured to the sleeping man. "He is the one who allows me to take this form, though I do not know why or how. Now, I have come to bring you back to Doggie-san. Where are the knots? I can attempt to untie you, but I apologize if it takes me some time to master these solid hands."

"I don't remember being tied up. Where are we? Where's Lovino? Is Lovi okay?"

"It would not be wise to try rescuing your brother. He is being attended to by Alfred and the wicked magician. It seems he fainted, though I do not believe it was because of a spell like Arthur said."

"He fainted from a spell!? Hnng, I mean, he fainted?"

"It is not safe to provoke those two if I am to make progress in carrying out my orders. We must leave him. Besides, it is you the mercenaries want. I am sure they will release him once they have found you are gone."

"They won't release him. They think he's beguiled, too. I'll go with you, but we have to come back for him. Oh, I hope Doggie is okay! He never came back after transforming, and then it turned out Edelstein was a changeling the whole time, and the next thing I knew, I was at a tea party, and then Lovi came to me spewing nonsense about Alfred pretending to be Doggie. Ehh, I feel like I'm describing the weirdest dream!"

"Alfred _was_ pretending to be Doggie, but we must not debate it now. I found the knots."

It did take a while for Kiku to figure out how to untie the knots, especially because Feliciano was wriggling and worrying away under the ropes the whole time. He had to remind the fairy not to whine so loud while Feliciano pelted him with reminders not to pull on his wings, which were uncomfortably stuffed through the bars of the chair's back. But eventually, Feliciano was freed. He stood to stretch and flutter his wings.

"Should I take my things, or will Doggie come back?"

"Doggie-san was never here in the first place, but you may leave the more trivial items. We can take them when we come back for your brother."

"I'll just take my lute. I don't know where they put the wand."

"Take what you must. I have a plan. Once I leave the vicinity of that mysterious man in the bed, there will be a limit to how long I can remain in this form. When I return to spirit form, I will try to make myself brighter. You must fly up and out of range of the guards, then follow me out of town. Try to make yourself as unnoticeable as possible."

"Right. The joke will be on that lying magician. He made the mistake of taking the spell off my eyes."

"What spell on your eyes?"

"Oh, not you, too, Kiku! You know, the spell Arthur put on me so he could see whatever I could see? He made the mistake of taking it off, so I can escape so much easier now!"

"I really do not know what spell you speak of. You will have to elaborate on it later once we are all collected and in one place. Now, will you open the door for us?"

Feliciano nodded and tip-toed over to the door. Cautiously, he reached out and grabbed the knob. He turned. Then, he gave a little yelp and found he couldn't remove his hand from the handle. It was stuck there.

Frozen there.

"You silly little ones. How did you not see me?"

Kiku turned to see the giant of a man standing coolly in the corner with his right hand outstretched. A soft white light enveloped his horns in the darkness, and his purple eyes glowed like a predator's. His lips curled into a devilish smile.

"My hand is stuck," Feliciano whined. "It's so cold. I can't feel my fingers."

"Would you prefer to not be feeling at all? I can easily make that happen. Or perhaps you would like to be encased in ice so there is no escaping. Let us not forget that fairy wings are delicate..."

The fairy gasped. He tugged on his arm, but his hand was completely stuck, and frost was crawling up his wrist.

Kiku leaned in close and whispered, "Do not scream, Fairy-ciano. It would draw attention from the others."

Feliciano nodded before desperately straining numb fingers to break the ice forming around them. Kiku, meanwhile, drew the sword at his side and pointed it at the demon's chest. His body shifted into a ready position. For a moment, he saw the golden-eyed man before him, an aura of power boiling and emanating from his form. Just as quickly, the warmth abated, and Kiku was left in the frigid moment of reality.

"Ivan? What do you think you're doing?" Yao grumbled under the covers. "This isn't your ice dungeon. I need it warm to sleep."

"Apology," said the demon. "I am only trying to prevent little fairy from escaping."

"Escaping!?" This had Yao sitting bolt upright in bed to eye the scene. Kiku was distracted by trying to scrutinize his features. The darkness dulled and muted all colors, but… no. The human's eyes were brown, not gold. But how had he not realized from previous visions how similar the faces looked?"

"You are from my past," he pressed.

Yao only looked annoyed. He squinted to see through the shadows. "No, I am not. I have never seen you before. I thought I told you this."

"I took your life, and it made my life a debt to be paid. Tell me how you are able to stand before me when you are dead. Tell me who you are."

"Oh, that's really welcoming. Are you going to kill me again?"

"Please just tell me who you are."

"Maybe I'm someone's descendent. I don't know. I'm not the one you have your issue from a thousand years ago with."

"But you — you _are_ the man from the visions! You do not share his eyes, but you share—"

This was the moment in which Ivan seized Kiku's wrist and tightened his grip. The freezing sensation stung as it crept over his skin under his sleeve. In an instant, whether from being unaccustomed to the cold or just out of shock, he dropped his weapon. He tried to bend down, but his knees were locked. No, not locked. Frozen in the ice blocks that had formed around his feet.

"You are trapped," Ivan said innocently. "It was too easy."

"Easy as pouring a cup of tea," Yao affirmed as he slipped out of bed.

"What a wonderful comparison. I might just use that one day."

"How about when you can hold a tea cup without it shattering?

"Kiku, what do we do!?" Feliciano cried, instantly forgetting about keeping his volume to a minimum.

"Sing! Quickly! Try to melt the ice so you can escape."

"What about you?"

"Do not worry about me. This form retains my past instincts. I know how to fight, but you have the advantage of being able to escape before you have to resort to self-defense."

"R-right," Feliciano stuttered. He steadied himself and began singing. The ice around his hand steamed.

"You think I'm going to stand around and let you escape?" Yao groaned. Even half asleep, he was still able to quickly restrict Feliciano's movements and clamp his hand over his mouth. Feliciano, without any decent reflexes in a state of surprise, could only squeal under the grip. Yao had learned from last time. He made sure to hold the fairy's body where his wings couldn't whip up and hit him.

"This one we may have trouble with. Can you knock little fairy out?" Ivan asked.

"It would be risky. I am only familiar with the pressure points of humans. Just from holding him, I can tell his body composition is very different. He's super lightweight for his height."

"Just chop him on head. If he lacks density, he will easily fall and be still."

 _"_ _Noooo!"_ Feliciano whined. He wriggled in the human's grip, straining his wings and pulling with all his strength on his poor hand.

"We could always bring in little changeling."

"Do you think we can do that when you froze Feliciano's hand to the doorknob!?"

"Fairy-ciano, can you hum to melt the ice?"

Feli gave a look like he wasn't sure it would work. And Kiku considered it probably wouldn't, considering the panicked state the fairy was in.

"Let him sing to melt ice, but don't let him escape," said the demon.

"That is stupid! If I let him sing, he could make anything happen! He could knock _me_ out!" Yao replied.

 _"Cela m'ennuie!_ Just _what_ are you doing in here!?"

The door was was flung inward, shoving Yao and Feliciano to the ground in a heap. Francis stood in the doorway with puffy purple splotches under his eyes. He let out a great yawn and dramatically slicked his platinum hair behind his ears. It appeared he'd made an attempt to shave the beard once, but it had grown to half its former length in the interim since then. The long ears hadn't diminished in size, and his tail still curled timidly around his legs under his robe.

"Wear off by morning, my ass," Yao muttered under his breath. The last word made Francis shrink in shame.

But Yao didn't want to deal with him at the moment. He was currently dealing with how Feliciano had come free from his grip in the fall. With a march-like mantra under his breath, he was melting the ice around his wrist at a much quicker rate. Yao wrapped both of his hands around Feliciano's mouth again, but he had already sung enough for his hand to wiggle, and with one mighty heave, he pulled it free. A bit of skin ripped from his palm and fingertips. The rest of his hand was painfully red from the heat of the water. He clenched it into a shaking fist and whimpered.

 _"Laisse-moi tranquille!_ I do not have time to deal with this right now!"

"You are going to deal with it! Help me tie him up."

"Then what about this one?" Asked Ivan.

"He is fully frozen to the floor. You can let go of him," Yao said as if this was obvious.

With Francis cursing and Yao swearing and Ivan steadily decreasing the temperature of the room, Feliciano was forced into the chair again, and Francis was the one to retrieve a sniveling Arthur from his room at the end of the hall. With a whispered claim that Alfred desperately needed rest to build up his strength, the magician made a fool of himself pretending to be the boisterous changeling in front of Feliciano so he would freeze, then took care in healing the skinned and burned hand.

"I never thought I would see a gentlefairy _cry._ Or maybe my expectations have been too high, wind-dancer, _"_ Francis sneered.

"At least you can still call yourself a man."

Francis clenched his fists in a furious fluster, but could not speak a word.

All of this was wildly disorienting for Kiku. Ivan's amusement, Yao's frustration, Francis' grudge, Arthur's hopelessness. They were all _living_ feelings, and they made his head throb and his body feel even heavier. Oh, sometimes he felt so much better off when he was a spirit. Spirits didn't have to commit to or care about anything. There was no great emotion and no need for competition. No anger or fear or pride.

Although, he could see how the living might cherish these feelings.

They begrudgingly started a guard shift, with Ivan obliging to take the first one. Arthur and Francis returned grumbling and glaring back to their rooms, while Yao almost instantly fell asleep again.

And still Kiku was left in his solid, living form, without a further clue as to how Yao was the dead man from the vision.

* * *

It had been so long since he'd seen reversion up close. Or either of the transformations, for that matter. Gilbert fought the urge to throw his arms around the furry beast as he whined and snarled, fur retreating and muscles deflating.

Ludwig coughed as he started slipping the previous day's clothes back on. His greasy bangs hung in his eyes before he anxiously slicked them back. It took a brother's trained eyes to know what Ludwig had just gone through was not as casual as he made it look.

"The one shirt he didn't steal had to be the tight one," Ludwig muttered. "Who designs sleeves like these anymore? I feel like I'm going to rip every seam if I tense my biceps for even a moment."

"It's gotten worse, hasn't it?"

"What's gotten worse?"

Gilbert, not yet ready to let go of his mother-hen tendencies, rushed forward and took hold of Ludwig's meaty hands to examine them. His thin, knobbly fingers looked pitifully small as they poked and prodded.

"Any lasting pain? Be honest with me."

"Do I look like I'm about to spit blood? Of course there's no lasting pain. You made a potion, remember? It made my body strong enough to handle the magical energy. Now let me adjust these sleeves. Look at this. They don't even come all the way to my hands. I outgrew this shirt years ago."

"Luddy, I've been a terrible brother for letting you live with this curse."

"I've been a terrible person for letting myself live with it, but that's why we're here, isn't it? On the brink of incredible power that could change our lives for the better? Wait a minute… change our lives… change our lifestyles. Gilbert, maybe that's it. I need a solid occupation. A title for myself."

"Oh, no you don't. Last night, you said you wanted to take care of me full time. Turn me into your pet."

"I said I want you to trust in and rely on me. I don't want to coddle you. You're still my older brother. I should see if Adela will take me on as her apprentice. She _did_ teach me everything there is to know about cakes, and she's getting to be the age where any knowledge she can give would be masterful."

"No, not a baker. Reminds me of Roderich. Plus, you're too big."

"What does size have to do with anything?"

"You're super tall and bulked up like a god, _and_ you have a scary face. You shouldn't spend your life in an apron smiling and telling people to eat your _Brötchen_."

"I don't have a scary face, and my _Brötchen_ would be the best in the country, if not the world. Hm, perhaps you're right, though. There are other, more practical professions that need men of my build. I hear the lumber trade is booming across the sea. We could both go. You with your human form. We could float logs."

"I can see right through you. You're just trying to distract me from my evil plans."

"Gilbert, you're not going through with _any_ of your evil plans. Look, I know you're upset, but you can't pour salt into old wounds, especially at a time like this. Now, how about brewing? It's a manly profession, and we both love beer."

"We won't need beer after we get the amulet. I'm going to wish for the best in the world. I'll wish that it springs up from underground, and we can build a beer fountain. We'll spread rumors that it's the dark wizard Gilbert's beer fountain and that it's cursed. Now, maybe the beer itself isn't cursed, but I could put petty curses on anyone who drinks it."

"Are you always this imaginative when it comes to fear-mongering?"

"Luddy, once the dog-man is gone, I need _something_ to keep the people intrigued."

"Then put your efforts into a cursed beer fountain and not a country where the wealthy start turning into birds."

 _"_ _Start_ turning into birds? You mean I should make the changes slow and progressive? That would actually make for a very entertaining drama! 'Why don't you sit down, Roderich?' _'Oh, no thank you. I'm sure you've noticed the bulge in the back of my trousers? That's definitely not where I'm sprouting tail feathers. Ach! Another one!'_ "

"Brother, no."

"Luddy _Tauschlein_ , what happened to that ambition of yours to become a great wizard?"

This silenced the younger. His face turned grave, and he busily focused on making his hair as neat and slicked back as possible.

"How old were you when we made that potion together? Six? Seven? I can remember it like it was yesterday. I let you stir the cauldron while I put in the ingredients and worked spells over it. Then you drank it to cure your sunburns, and when I brought you upstairs and tucked you into bed, you told me when you were older, you wanted to be just like Ludwig von Vegel, the legendary wizard I named you after."

There came no response.

"Ah, that was the night I told you you didn't have any powers of your own, wasn't it? You looked so disappointed. It broke my heart, and yes, I _do_ have one. But by the end of the night, you were smiling and telling me how one day, you'd be the greatest wizard in Volkerburg. Powerful, clever, a friend to the fairies—"

"Childish innocence ends," Ludwig huffed.

Gilbert choked on his words. His heart sank in his chest. Childish innocence… ends? But… no, no, this couldn't be right. Gilbert had tried so hard to make sure Ludwig knew his innocence was precious and that his childhood was special and cherished. And now, here he was, grown up and _scowling._ Broken by magic and confused about his purpose. Holding the cracked shards of a dream all but buried in the dust.

He wrapped his scrawny arms around Ludwig and squeezed as hard as he could. "You are _never, ever,_ going to say something so hopeless in front of me again. And you are _never_ going to give up on what you believe in. Do you understand me?"

"There's no reason to be upset. I — I didn't mean it like that—"

"You meant it like that. And you scared me. Maybe you don't want to be a wizard anymore, but don't say it as if you have no imagination or ambition at all anymore. I don't know. Maybe that's just your humanness talking. Maybe you're fashioned to feel more comfortable around the ordinary—"

"Gilbert. I still love magic. I love it more than anything. How could I ever lose my intrigue for the things you can do? The things _any_ magical being can do?"

"Then just don't grow up and leave me forever, okay? Don't decide who you are and change so much that you want to abandon where you came from. Stay in the forest, Ludwig. Don't be… don't be a damn _human."_

He expected some scolding on how he wasn't supposed to call Ludwig that word for the risk of alienating the two of them, but Ludwig simply sighed and gave Gilbert a few gentle pats on the shoulder.

"I'll never be truly human. I wasn't raised by humans. I thought I had magic powers as a child, and you had to tell me I didn't. I don't know what being a swap-child makes me, and that's why I have to figure out who I am as an adult.

"And you're jumping to the extremes. I'm not going to leave you or forget you just because you're a fairy. Innocence ends, yes, but _wonder_ doesn't. I don't want to be a wizard because I don't want to get hurt anymore, and I know you don't want that either. But I'm still amazed by everything out of the ordinary. The amazement that _you_ instilled in me still exists to this day. Does that make a little more sense?"

"Oh, you're all grown-up!" Gilbert cried. "But, er, um, who am I going to pass the torch to when a new dark wizard is needed? I may have come into Fritz's power by accident, but notoriety like this needs to be cultivated and passed on. Granted, maybe I _will_ be the one to conquer and defeat all the wicked humans, but that just makes much less work for my eventual successor."

"I'm sure you'll find a successor when the time comes."

"But he can't be a _nobody,_ Ludwig!"

"You were a nobody when Fritz found you."

"Excuse me? Maybe I forgot to mention that I could whip up gale force winds just by screaming, and I still can. I was a baby with incredible potential!"

"Let's just talk about something that can't lead to depressing thoughts. I sent both Lovino and Kiku to seek out Feliciano last night, and neither have returned, which means the mercenaries must have caught them. Looks like we've got more work cut out for us than we thought. We need a plan, which means we need your cunning and my logic."

"Oh, believe me, Luddy. I already have a plan," Gilbert sneered, his ruby eyes sparkling and his fanged smile stretched tight.

* * *

 _"Gilbert's ambition is not to be underestimated. Notice how he sees the dog-man as a valuable asset to his cause. He yearns to feed off the fear of others. The spirit of pure evil still resides in him, and he is already yielding to it with this idiotic revenge scheme of his."_

The black eagle chirped.

 _"Don't make yourself known. Just be my eyes and ears. Remember what happened last time?"_

The eagle anxiously ruffled its feathers and shifted on its branch.

 _"You will have your use. For now, we shall wait. Let's see the outcome of this encounter. Then we can weigh our options. I'm getting tired of this game. At this point, I'm more than satisfied with framing that sniveling duke. The mercenaries can burn Edelweiss to the ground for the reward they think they deserve. They won't get anything from me. Inefficient and useless. I should have handpicked them myself instead of relying on the luck of the draw. Perhaps then, this whole issue would've been resolved by now. The_ sogno's _power_ _in my hands, and Gilbert finally put in his place."_

* * *

 **~N~**

 **So, um, guess what other anime I've been obsessed with lately?**

 **~IMPORTANT!~ There is a poll on my profile for fans of _Hetafata_ to vote for which character should receive a one-shot next! And if you haven't already read my first one-shot, _Midsummer Moon Brew,_ (which goes more into Ludwig's wizarding dream,) ****definitely go check it out!**


	64. Operation Aschenputtel

**PHASE ONE**

"The essence of the plan is organized chaos. A major diversion, mass confusion, meddling with the enemy's emotions—"

"And what will be the outcome?" Ludwig asked, one eyebrow raised.

"With luck, we'll be free to take what's ours without trouble and make a clean getaway."

"How do we escape the mercenaries?"

"You're getting too far ahead. Just know that I have quite a few tricks up my sleeve. Which brings us to Phase One of Operation Aschenputtel."

"That princess story? This isn't going to look good on my manly résumé."

"How's putting down your history with the dark wizard Gilbert going to help you become a brewer?" Gilbert said bitterly.

"You're right," Ludwig mumbled. A knot of uncertainty tightened in his chest. Would he be able to find a suitable profession? Sure, he'd completed every odd job imaginable, but those were only temporary. None of them was a _livelihood._ Choosing a definite path would shape his identity into something tangible, but in doing so, it would change him. He would become a different person entirely, known by his craft and not by his history. Not by his knowledge of _magic._ He looked at Gilbert, and then he understood why the changeling was so afraid of Ludwig forgetting him.

Gilbert was examining a long, knobbly stick he'd picked up. He stuffed it in a belt loop, then clapped his hands together and saluted the yellow bird perching on a limb, which humorously saluted back with its wing and took off flying.

"Phase One starts now. Get your night cloak."

Ludwig begrudgingly let his brother ride on his shoulders under the giant cloak, though his ribs resting like bony claws around his back made him shiver. Did Gilbert know at all what he was thinking? Or was this just a plan he'd hashed together without any rational thought? A cracked stepping stone on the way to the thin ice that was his scheme for revenge? This town was already wary of his kind terrorizing its inhabitants. And with a changeling already within its borders…

"You again," one of the guards said when he approached. "You're in and out a lot, aren't you? You should know that if anything suspicious is happening with you, we'll find out. That duke who came in with you a few days ago hasn't escaped our knowledge. Some of our fellows saw him traipsing around outside after curfew. Why don't you tell any other friends you have that even a provisional law is the _law_ for citizens of this country or a duke from another?"

Ludwig stiffened. They were already aware of Gilbert in a different shape. And they were suspicious of him. No worries, right? They'd never see that shape again. Gilbert was a blank slate. _Ja._

The other guard sighed. "You know the rule by now. Let's check you. And don't be all fidgety this time."

"Make a confused face," Gilbert urged.

Ludwig did so, but he was certainly not fidgety. He stood up as straight and unassuming as he could, internally ever so thankful for the slight breeze blowing his cloak around so the bulges that did appear didn't look strange.

But when he'd been swiped with scissors on his hands, wrists, and cheeks, the guards seemed to grow exceedingly wary. They whispered to each other in the language of Amotoile, and Ludwig didn't know what acting natural in this situation entailed.

"Oh, this couldn't be better." Gilbert whispered from behind him. "Don't worry. This is all part of the plan."

 _"_ _Monsieur,"_ one of the guards said gravely once they had finished, "we believe that you are human. However, we have reason to believe that the last time you came in here, you were not. Tell us, did you come in with a man who claimed he was a duke of something-or-another?"

"You didn't," Gilbert said.

"I didn't. Your mentioning of it caught me off guard, along with the notion that I was here before," said Ludwig.

The guards stiffened as if not ready to believe it themselves. "There was a person who looked just like you who came into town. He checked himself with his own pair of scissors and looked anxious while doing so. He also had some bad scars on his face and a nick taken out of both ears."

The other guard nodded. "In fact, he entered like this several times over the past week, and the first time he came in, he had a fairy with him who claimed to be blindfolded to escape the effects of some enchantment."

Ludwig caught on and acted the part. "I assure you that I am a real human. If there's another one who looks like me, he's a counterfeit."

"Ask about the fairy's appearance," Gilbert said.

"That fairy. What did he look like? What color were his wings?"

 _"_ _Il etait petit et roux._ Slim, dark red hair, and his wings were a tan-gold if I remember correctly."

"You know him, and he was kidnapped," Gilbert whispered.

"I know that fairy! He disappeared a while ago. I was so worried! If this shapeshifter kidnapped him and is fooling him, I have to put a stop to it! He's rich! It could be that they're trying to target him!"

The guards trembled. They spoke some more before one offered forth his hand. "Come. I will accompany you into town. These creatures are malicious, and who's to say you won't be attacked if you're discovered?"

"Take his hand."

Ludwig did so, and a withered hand sped out from beneath the folds of fabric and clapped over the guard's forehead. With more instructions, Ludwig quickly maneuvered to the other, and he was dispatched in much the same manner. Both now stood waiting to for their memories to be muddled.

The changeling himself slipped out from under the cloak and stood proudly. "You see? Phase One: Enter town with a guard while sowing the seeds of wariness and suspicion within the guard system."

"You're going to be the guard, aren't you?" Ludwig said.

"Precisely. I'll be one of these gentlemen, while the other will have his memory of me erased but his memory of you intact. He'll believe the other guard will have left with you, and when the other guards see me with you in town, that will be our story."

"But what about Alfred? Won't he get caught in my shape?"

"I made Alfred take a different shape. He's safe for _now,_ just like you are."

"What does that mean?"

Gilbert tittered. "All will make sense in time. Now, I'll be woozy after I transform, and we both need energy for our bodies and minds. The treachery will resume after pancakes."

* * *

 **PHASE TWO**

"Eat slower. You're making a scene."

"You're just as ravenous," Gilbert reasoned, his mouth stuffed with buttery goodness. A viscous blob of syrup dribbled down his chin.

"The typical human would be full after one stack of pancakes. I haven't eaten in a long time, and _I'm_ getting full after just one. You're almost done with _two."_

"Let's just say I'm not the typical human."

"Will those memory charms hold?"

"They should hold. They're different from the hypnosis I used on Feliciano. We don't need their minds warped from an unbreakable spell. These are just average memory charms. If they break, we'll be gone by then."

"And you're sure no one's going to find that guard's body stuffed in that hollow tree."

"Not if you don't describe its location out loud like that," Gilbert whispered.

Their hushed conversation had brought their faces so close that their noses nearly touched. It was now when Ludwig noticed they were receiving some odd stares, and he quickly regained his proper posture. They finished their pancakes in silence, though Gilbert made a face at the fact that he couldn't have more to fully satisfy his inhuman appetite.

Ludwig just urged him along. He could eat his usual outrageous amount of pancakes swimming in syrup when they were home. Perhaps by then, he could just wish for them, and Ludwig would only have the labor of washing dishes to worry about. Still, Gilbert's liveliness after having eaten assuaged the tightness in Ludwig's chest, and his own pancakes made him full and clear-headed. Now, if only he knew the full details!

Gilbert was a master of deception, weaving quick yet intricate fabrications to make the other patrolmen they passed wary and worried. Using the troubles he'd really experienced, Feliciano quickly became a believable object of interest for the fairer folk. Slowly, the amount of patrolmen lowered as their ranks went to go investigate where rumors had placed the counterfeit until Gilbert was the only one left on the scene. He furtively brought Ludwig into an alley where none could see them.

"We have to act quickly, now. We don't have any control over what those other guards will say to Feliciano if they find him. I need to get to him first so I can tread lightly and the mercenaries don't find out you're here. I'm sorry I wasn't able to explain earlier, but there were too many people around, and trust is key in the art of deception."

"But I _am_ here. Just what is this plan of yours? Why are we making the guards wary? If they don't find you, they'll find Alfred. They'll _torture_ him, Gilbert. I've learned through the grapevine what they do here. They hold an iron rod across the chest until it burns out _Fée Née de_ _L'Ombre_ and brand a lily on the neck, and that's just the proper protocol without prejudice involved. I don't want to see him hurt, even if he's an enemy."

"Calm your tits. You underestimate Alfred. He was my protégé, after all. He knows all the tricks I do. Well, not all of them. Like this one, for example. Hold still, please."

"Hold still for — what are you doing?"

"Luddy, I've kept an oath for nearly twenty years, but it looks like I'll be breaking it today."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"Shut your mouth and hold still! We need to hurry!"

Ludwig could only do as Gilbert said, though his mind raged with questions. Where was the logic in this? Where was the outcome? Why make the guards wary when they were risking Gilbert's secret? And what… what was Gilbert doing now?

He'd taken the stick out of confinement and was now taking the care to wave and flick it in a precise manner around Ludwig's form, singing something in a mixed-up language Ludwig couldn't begin to decipher. Once or twice, he caught a word in Folkerburgese or something he could guess was Allegrian, but it always flowed out of lucidity onto something else, as if the words were bent on twisting into a linguistic oblivion unknown to the ears of man.

Gilbert then made Ludwig hold the stick in two hands, (still not telling him anything,) and then he stared at Ludwig with a contemplative expression and snapped his fingers.

The wood of the stick dissolved into a silvery powder that flowed up and spread over his skin with a burning, tightening sensation.

"What the _hell,_ Gilbert!?"

"Don't struggle. It's not going to kill you. Although, I've never done this before, so I'm curious. Does it hurt?"

 _"_ _Ja,_ it hurts! It's _squeezing_ me!"

"Probably just because you're getting smaller."

"Smaller!?" Ludwig coughed. The pressure was constricting around his chest. It was as if a giant hand were trying to crush him in its grip — the opposite of when his body painfully bulged and swelled while transforming. He realized with a start that he couldn't breathe, and he started retching when the pressure squeezed in on his stomach.

And through all of this, Gilbert never even broke a sweat. He just kept _staring_ as if there were nothing wrong. Well, something was wrong! His brother was in pain, and he caused it! Was that the oath Gilbert had broken? To never use magic on his brother, lest he hurt him? What was the use of breaking it when Ludwig had clearly told him he didn't want to be a wizard for this reason? Just what _was_ this silvery stuff attaching itself to his skin and squeezing? What was it doing to him!?

After a minute in which Ludwig was sure he was going to implode, the pressure became a little more bearable, though still present. He slumped against the dirty brick wall of the alley and groaned, not knowing if he could keep his pancakes down for much longer. A few shaky breaths worked their way into his lungs.

"Hmm, very nice. I'm surprised it actually worked so well," Gilbert mused. "Open your eyes. I want to see how those turned out."

 _Turned out?_ Ludwig opened his eyes immediately and inspected himself. But frustratingly, he didn't look any different, save for a sparkling sheen coating his skin like it was covered in droplets of murky dew. What was Gilbert seeing that he couldn't? What had he _done?_

Gilbert grabbed Ludwig's chin and turned his face for inspection.

"Not bad at all. Convincing enough. I don't think Alfred could tell the difference."

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't see?"

"No, of course I can't 'see'. What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"Hm, you should be able to. Let's see… oh! That's right. I have to give you permission. You know, you don't have to see. It isn't real, after all."

"What!? I want to see!"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive I want to see."

"Fine then. I think this does it," Gilbert said before he spat into his hand and smeared it on Ludwig's forehead. "I, Gilbert, Fairy of Darkness, give you permission to see the glamour I have placed upon you."

Ludwig's vision warped and blurred. The silvery dew on his skin constricted, as if his flesh was folding in on itself. He watched in horror as his strong arms and hands now visually squeezed down to become thin and bony. His nails sharpened like claws.

"You… you turned me into a… My _voice!"_

"That adorable little Amotoile accent suits you."

Ludwig tensed his hands. Clawed fingers followed his commands. He slumped further down the wall.

"Now, don't faint! We don't have time for that! And no, I didn't turn you into anything. I placed a glamour upon you."

Ludwig produced the ultimate what-the-hell-is-this furrow of the brows and slightly open mouth.

"The oldest legends never mention fairies of darkness being able to transform. That power was given to us by the evil curse that took our beauty and health away. I don't have time to completely explain it right now, but basically what I've done is use a very old technique unique to the Dark Fae called glamour. It's a strong illusion resistant to most magical penetration. Even demonsight. You aren't really changed. You just look that way to outside eyes."

"Where did you learn this?"

"Fritz. He was all over that ancient magic stuff. He could take a stone and make it look like a singing bird. Glamour is really, _really_ weird magic. I'm surprised it still works in this day and age, what with the Balance thrown off and magic so much weaker than it used to be. Not even changelings are born with the instinct for it now that we can actually transform."

"And what was that language?"

"Faelic. It's a dead fairy language, but modern ones take roots from it."

"So you're a real polyglot, and you're aware of magic even older than transformation. More secrets."

"Hey, these aren't secrets. My Faelic is a grammatical nightmare, and I've never attempted glamour before. It's outdated and weird and not useful to us now that we're survivalists instead of jokers. But anyway, I don't have time to explain it to you. I applied a glamour to make you look like a changeling even dorkier than Alfred. You've even got silver freckles. Now, here's how the plan works from here. You're going to cause a ruckus and take up all the guards' attention. Your job is to distract them for as long as you can. I'll help them get to you. The great thing about being glamoured is that the afflictions of the illusion don't apply to you."

"So I won't burn."

 _"You'll_ burn, but you won't. No pain or scars. Wow, I'm jealous."

"Brother, I still don't like this. It's immoral. We're only reinforcing their fears and encouraging them to treat changelings like this."

"Well, look at you being a big, strong advocate. But I haven't finished. The goal of Phase Three-A is Alfred coming to be your hero and taking you out of town. Bonus points if he's assisted by the other mercenaries. Phase Three-B involves me checking that the people are secure on the other side of town and getting Feliciano to safety without any suspicion on the mercs' part."

"Why can't he rescue _you?_ You're a real changeling. _You_ have the silver tongue, not me."

"Because I'd burn, and I... if I got caught... who knows if I would be able to think straight?"

"And yet you traipse around in nothing but a hooded robe making people wonder about your true identity. Your wizarding days are done, brother."

"No, that is where you cross the line! You get to go out and find yourself, fine, but let me be the dark wizard I've already become!"

"We're both going to change."

"I will argue with you later on that subject. Now, the other reason why it's you instead of me is that Alfred wouldn't want to rescue me anyway."

"I don't think he can hold a grudge."

"We can't underestimate his cleverness. He _knows_ I would never put myself in danger unless it was a trap. If he heard there was a red-eyed changeling caught in town, he'd wait until after the hysteria had settled down to try dipping his toes in the water, and he certainly wouldn't help me because he can't trust me anymore. But _you_ appear to be a random event, and with his heroic intuition, he'll know you need immediate rescuing.

"By the way, I don't know what will happen when you transform, but even if the glamour stretches when you grow, it will ultimately wear off at midnight, hence the title of the plan. When that time comes, or if you get into trouble, meet me on the other side of the town border where the communal fire pit is. Don't worry if you're followed."

"I'm not Aschenputtel!"

"Yet you have both a magical bird _and_ a wise fairy to help grant your every wish. Either story works!"

And with that, Gilbert was sprinting away.

* * *

 **PHASE THREE**

Gilbert had arrived just in the nick of time, thanks to his speedy, strong human legs. He'd predicted that he'd find Feliciano at the mercenaries' inn instead of the one he'd been staying in the previous day, and he found this to be true when he saw many more patrolmen in this half of town. A smirk lit up his face. Furtively, he sharpened one nail and cut open his thumb, then barreled into the patrolmen, letting out as loud a scream as he could.

"Changeling! Changeling on avenue Récupérer! Help! _Help!"_

And just as he also predicted, once the already hysterical patrolmen heard this news, they jumped to his side and readily believed what he told them.

"I was accompanying a man who was afraid of the rumors, but then I saw something pale slithering around in the alley, and when I looked, oh, it had these terrible blue-black eyes, and it had a child in its clutches! I was able to save the child, but the creature attacked me! Look at my thumb! It tried to bite my thumb off! I ran here as fast as I could! This thing is vicious! It's _vicious!_ It has unnatural powers, and it used them to make that man I was accompanying obey his commands! It told him to go that way out of the city, and I can only guess what it plans to do!"

All of this was right below the window of the room where Gilbert had been bound to the chair the previous morning. He'd woven an excellent story in case no one had heard. A story of a changeling that Alfred would take for desperate and hungry and certainly not malicious in any way.

A number of them had already headed in the favorable direction, while some stayed behind with Gilbert. He claimed the mercenaries' inn without even mentioning it. His boots scuffed on the carpet as he shoved disturbed townsfolk inside, and he rushed up the stairs to inform the guests.

Intuition buzzed. Instinct clicked. He could feel the vibrations on the floor, hear the panicked voices, be certain of the very future.

Except for when one door slammed open, knocking him to the ground. He rolled and clutched his nose. Blood from his thumb mixed with warm, fresh blood from one nostril, leaving a bright red stain on his cheeks and lips.

"No means no!"

It was the voice of Francis. Gilbert cracked his eyes and peered upward. The door was that of what appeared to be the Mercs' common room, with a square table in the center. The knight was trying to restrain Alfred by pulling his arms behind his back, but the golden-haired boy was already half out the door of the room, struggling and whining.

"But I _have_ to! They're gonna kill him! He's only hungry and scared! What if he's just a kid!?"

Ah, so Gilbert really had gotten under his skin. He hoped his luck would last.

"You need to keep your mouth shut! You would be in so much trouble if anyone heard you saying this! I already told you I would deal with it! These patrolmen are fools. They haven't been properly trained at all to deal with a real changeling."

"So what? You've been properly trained? In hurting people, yeah!"

"Alfred, calm down!" The voice of Arthur yelled. "It's not your business! Get back to sleep!"

"It _is_ my business because they're gonna hurt him, and I'm not convinced Francy has changed his mind about us!"

"That guard said the changeling attacked a child."

"I'll be the judge of that! _Nooo!"_

This was when Francis gave a mighty heave and yanked the boy back over the threshold. One of his hands came free, and a squeal from Francis indicated Alfred had hit him somewhere.

But Gilbert couldn't focus on this. He had forgotten. If he was to appear to them, he had to combat demonsight and the ability to see Depth. _Crap! I only had time for Ludwig's glamour and not my own! The entire reason I remembered this magic was because I needed a way to escape the demonsight! What to do, what to do… I need something organic._ He twisted and writhed in his place on the floor before, as if someone was watching over him, a leaf tumbled out of his coat.

"Thanks, Fritz," he murmured before hastily trying to remember the spell. Fritz had only showed him so much, and it was so long ago. Well, if his glamour on Ludwig worked, he should certainly be able to create a shield around himself to reinforce his human disguise. He popped up, took the leaf, and cautiously moved through a series of dance steps, all while singing Faelic phrases with broken grammar and horrible syntax. The leaf faded and wilted, its color trickling onto Gilbert's hand in the form of silvery dew.

As had happened with Ludwig, the illusion stretched over his body like a second skin, but Gilbert's haphazard glamour was loose over him. The dew was patchy in places and completely absent in others. Gilbert took care in at least flushing his eyes with it in hopes it would cover his Depth completely.

He didn't have any time to make himself presentable because the door was thrown open again, and Alfred was standing over him. His deep blue eyes were watery.

Gilbert looked up with haunted eyes. "All citizens of this town are to stay indoors. We are in an informal lockdown. There is a _creature_ with black eyes _—"_

Alfred just turned and bolted.

"Alfred!" Arthur howled after him after emerging. Francis was right behind, and after him stepped the snow demon, who paused to look over at Gilbert with a puzzled expression. The changeling's heart sped. Was the glamour enough? Had he pronounced a word wrong? Sure, his grammar was horrible, but his pronunciations were good, weren't they? And he'd done the steps right!

"D-demon!" Gilbert chirped. He forced his mind to be blank. If demonsight still worked, Ivan could only see things hidden in the moment. And if Gilbert had no active thoughts…

There came a crash from downstairs, followed by hysterical shouting. The demon crept curiously toward the stairs, and Gilbert was left to thank Fritz all over again for his gift of luck, though he continually insisted he wasn't superstitious.

He picked himself up, ignoring the blood, and proceeded to knock on the mercs' door, pretending he had already knocked on the others.

"You and your companions are not to go outdoors until the creature that has been discovered is apprehended and dealt with properly," he sputtered, blood still gushing from his nose.

But this just assisted his plan to assess Feliciano, for the sympathetic Matthew took pity on him and invited him in to sit at the square table. He sat and was met with frozen, glazed eyes.

"Changeling," Feliciano whispered without moving his mouth.

Gilbert seized up, staring at the fairy in a mixture of confusion and dread. The boy was sleepless. His auburn hair was in frizzy, split-ended shambles, and his eyes were bloodshot. He didn't notice when Gilbert waved a hand in front of his face or nudged his foot under the table. He only produced frightened syllables and stared with his tired and terrified eyes.

There was a silent dialogue between Yao and Matthew. Yao was obviously peeved that a guard had been allowed to enter into this place and see Feliciano in such a poor, warped state of body and mind, while Matthew insisted that the guard was shaken and covered in blood. Either way, Gilbert was here, and he was going to stay here until at least Feliciano, his flute, and Edelstein's ring were back in his possession.

"What is wrong with this boy?" He asked, pointing at the fairy with a disturbed expression.

Glances between the two. Too late. Gilbert knew the scheme.

"He had a nightmare," Yao said. "So a changeling was seen in town?"

"Oh, don't remind me," Gilbert burst out. "I was the one who saw it first! It nearly bit my thumb off, and it made me fall and hit my nose!"

Matthew bit his lip and furrowed his brow. _Think we're all angels because of your brother's obsession with justice?_ Gilbert thought with an internal smirk.

"That's it, then," Yao said, placing a hand on Feliciano's shoulder. "He's terrified of changelings. That was what his nightmare was about, and with all the screaming outside, he went into shock. There's no changeling, Feli. You can relax, now."

 _You're a surprising liar. It's rough, but I'm a master of the craft, so no hard feelings._ Gilbert mused to himself as he scrutinized the surprising amount of golden fairy dust sticking to the human's hand. So there had been a scuffle last night. Feliciano had lost, but he must have struggled hard to break free. Just how brutal were these mercenaries? He supposed Feliciano was more terrified of them than he had ever been of changelings.

Feliciano shivered a little before his eyes gained a clearness. He shrieked and jumped up when he saw the blood on Gilbert's face, but Gilbert was forced to look away when Matthew brought a wet wash cloth and started wiping the stains from his skin.

 _Be natural,_ Gilbert told himself. _It's all right for me to be shaken. My story makes sense._

"Say, what is your name?" He asked the fairy.

"Feliciano," he mumbled. His voice caught in his throat. The bloodshot eyes suddenly looked watery as Alfred's had.

"Is everyone else in this inn secure?" Matthew asked.

"They should be. Myself and several other patrolmen and guards took up the task. Oh, it was horrible. I'd never seen something so ugly in my life. You have a right to be afraid, Feliciano. In fact, _you_ must be as wary as possible. Rumors have been flying from town to town about the changeling sightings over the past few months, and they seem to be following a noble, golden-winged fairy. You must protect yourself in case they are conspiring to take you."

Feliciano lay his head in his arms and started to sob.

Yao opened his mouth in ready protest, but Gilbert knew there was nothing he could say. Who would suspect a hysterical guard? From the outside, it _did_ appear Feliciano was being followed by one creature or many. And knowing the fact that his ally _Alfred_ had been the disaster in Fleur de Vie...

He thanked Matthew for his help and started moving back to the door. Feliciano wouldn't move anytime soon. If Feliciano's belongings weren't in here, they must have been in a different room. The brother and spirit had to be around here somewhere, and he wasn't helping his cause by remaining. He exited out into the hall, looking both ways to make sure none of the mercenaries were coming back. Good. Alfred must have been giving them real trouble. Gilbert could trust his charge to calculate his own complicated plan for rescuing the unknown fellow.

There was one door he'd knocked on earlier that had not been answered. Gilbert went to the room at the end of the hall and knocked as loudly as he could. He heard a grumbling from within. The door cracked open a sliver, and Gilbert could see one olivine eye glaring back.

"Yes?" Lovino bit.

He charmed the fairy into sleep and stepped inside. Ah yes, this was the goldmine — the same room he had been tied up in. The goods he had stolen from Edelstein, including the torn shirt, were all thrown in a pile in the corner. He bent down and shifted through them. His heart sped when his fingers closed around something cold and wooden. A mundane object that could be used as a powerful weapon. He pulled it out and clutched it to his chest.

* * *

The one who appeared as an old, silver-haired man knelt down with a scowl that had been all too common lately. An overturned bookshelf lay next to him, its tattered tomes scattered across the dusty floor. Eerie light from a candle was the only thing flashing in the darkness of the back room.

"I can't leave you in here for ten minutes without you making a mess!?"

Little ruby eyes welled with tears. Gilbert, who had grown to appear about four or five, backed away and held thin hands up in pitiful defense. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know it was magic! I just wanted to see if I could figure out how to play it!"

"Hush, Gilbert! I have people in the front of the shop."

To avoid being scolded, the little one moved onto his other concern. "I'm hungry!"

"Yes, of course you are. I'll throw you a potato the next chance I get. Just please try and be quiet until the end of the day. Then I can smuggle you back into my house and cook you something delicious."

"No, I'm hungry right _now,_ Fritz! And my body hurts! It hurts all over!"

"Burning or aching?"

"Both! It _hurts!"_

Fritz sighed, picking up the wailing child and sitting him on his lap on the makeshift bed at the back of the room. He gently rubbed circles on Gilbert's back while tiny claws gripped tightly around him. "Your magic is too powerful for your body, so it's forcing you to grow."

"I'm growing _more!?_ But I was so small a few days ago! Why can't I just stay small!? _Help_ me!"

Clearly Gilbert did not understand, and Fritz didn't expect him to. Baby changelings were fiercely intelligent, but their emotions and survival instincts got the best of them far too often. Anything threatening was an immediate concern. And in Gilbert's case, after such a traumatic experience, he always started crying after the simplest upset.

"Seriously, this should be your first lesson. Fairies of darkness are the most emotional of the lot. Don't give into your emotions when you don't have to. Do you even remember that wind you created? Oh, now you're just remembering that and crying more. Hush, Gilbert!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I made a mess and I can't control my magic or my emotions. I'm just so scared. And I'm hungry! I'm always hungry! It won't stop!"

"You shouldn't be able to control your magic. It's unstable, and you're far too young. But… Gilbert, did you make this mess by blowing into my flute?"

"I'm sorry," he blubbered.

Fritz gave a wry smile amidst his frustration. "You possess the Gift of Light."

Gilbert looked up, a sparkling curiosity in his eyes. It had sounded like a compliment, at least.

"You have the same power I have. Your magic sparks when you sing or make music. Old stories call it the Gift of Light because it was originally only possessed by the Fae of Light, the winged fairies."

"Then why do we have it?"

"Because a long time ago, the wingless Fae of All Magic decided to become like humans, and when they did so, it is said they placed a curse on the Fae of Darkness that upset the Grand Energetic Balance. When magic isn't balanced, it can ripple and fluctuate, like what happens when you toss a stone in a pool of water. The power originally possessed by the Fae of Light started popping up in other fairies like it was natural. And in the present, it's become very rare, even to winged fairies."

"It hurts," Gilbert whimpered. "My power hurts. I wish it would stop."

"I know. The first year is always the most painful. Your rate of growth will slow down as you get older and your magic stabilizes more. But we did learn something about it, didn't we?"

Gilbert just whined something incomprehensible.

"Listen, kid, you really have to stop. It's my life in danger here as much as yours. Keep quiet, and I'll throw you some potatoes and sausages. Then tonight, I'll give you a flute lesson so you can work on control. How does that sound?"

 _"Ja."_

* * *

Gilbert brought the flute to his lips and blew out a pure note. His heart tugged thinking of Fritz. Now, more than ever, he wished he knew of his bittersweet mentor's fate. Killed by humans, but which humans? And how had he been caught?

He could consider this later. Gilbert shuffled through the other items, stuffing as many potion vials as he could fit in his pockets. He couldn't carry all of these fancy clothes, and possessing them held no significance except that Edelstein would fret about the theft. No, what he needed was the ring.

After startling himself with its appearance, he used a shirt as a buffer and carefully placed the ring in the pocket of his blue coat.

Flute and ring. Now that he had these, he was armed and ready to deal with his most difficult task.

He turned now to the room. Lovino lay sleeping, and the spirit — a _solid, living_ spirit — was asleep on the bed, probably from the same charm.

"Well, _Scheiße,_ for that poor boy's sanity, I'll rescue you all. I'm just that awesome."

* * *

 **~N~**

 **How's this for "protagonist with an internal conflict, his quirky companion, and a outrageously elaborate plan," my fellow Wes Anderson fans?**

 **Aschenputtel is the German name for Cinderella. In the Grimm version of the story, her wishes are granted by a number of magical birds, while the Perrault version includes the fairy godmother and the spell that wears off at midnight.**

 **I hope Fritz's explanation makes sense. Basically, the three ancient "Fae Nations" are the Fae of Light (Like Feli) the Fae of Darkness (what are now changelings), and the Fae of All Magic, (Like Arthur.) The reason Arthur's kind refer to themselves as "light fairies" or "wingless fairies" is because the Isle of Rain continues to degrade anything to do with tradition, and changelings are not seen as people even though they are also wingless. More about the "changeling curse" will be explained later, but you can PM me if anything is confusing.**

 **To celebrate 1,115 views in the month of August 2018 and 10,700 views overall, I have started writing a one-shot featuring the unanimous winner of the poll — Lovino!**


	65. Painting the Darkness

He was in a drawing room furnished with the wild décor of homemade woodwork and crocheted doilies. His armchair had lost its plushness, leaving him sitting on a wooden frame covered by small bunches of stuffing and a pilled mauve fabric. A cup of tea on a saucer was in his hands. He sipped it curiously, and found it to be terribly bitter.

Arthur looked out the window to find some sign of his location, but beyond the glass was a swirling miasma of fog that was so thick it looked like cotton. That was odd. Could fog be this thick? And wasn't he supposed to be somewhere else?

"How did I get here from Amotoile?" He mused to himself. "I'm certain I was just in Amotoile. And there was something very important I was doing. Why can't I remember?"

"You will return to Amotoile shortly."

Arthur snapped his head to the left. A corpulent, bearded fairy whom he was sure wasn't there before was now sitting in another armchair facing him. He sipped his own cup of bitter tea and shot Arthur a look of utmost distaste.

"Penn? What is all this? I should be in Amotoile. That makes sense, and yet it doesn't. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Kirkland, it's time we had a little chat," Penn said. He put his cup of tea on the side table and laced his fingers atop his great belly. "I've given my approval, and Secretary Herschel is more than pleased to file the paperwork expelling you from Spearca Caeruleum."

The guild master's words rolled around in his mind for a few moments. In the hazy logic of a dream, it made sense. Expelled… from Spearca Caeruleum… expelled from his guild… never again to deal with the headaches and the silent bullying… oh, but wasn't that a good thing?

No! That was a terrible thing! He couldn't let another badge be ripped from his raw, tear-stained hands, even if he hated every single one of his colleagues! But why was this happening now? Why was he here?

"You know perfectly well why you're here, Kirkland. You are an utter disgrace to not only this guild, but our entire nation. You yearn for a time that is no more. Your mind is poisoned, and your fear of judgement cannot squash it."

"You don't know what's written in my heart," Arthur retorted. "Who gives you the right to judge what you cannot see?"

"You are _not_ neutral in your convictions, Kirkland."

"Because I've never outright vaunted about the ban?"

"Because you outright never supported it in the first place. Perhaps some time ago, you kept your heart's black secrets to yourself and wore the mask of indifference. But now, _now_ you are open and firm in what you believe. You believe that something we have lived perfectly without for many years — something that caused so much pain in our society — is worthy of being even tolerated."

"What pain?"

"Exactly. You say 'what pain?' I'm talking about the pain that comes when families are split apart and parents mourn over their missing children. You deny that such pain existed before the Restrictive Magick Act made things better, and in doing so, you are hurtful and hateful."

Arthur was taken aback by such direct rudeness. "You've got that completely backwards. I _know_ about the pain. I saw it with my own eyes when I was a child. I saw the herb jars and the mothers clutching their children, their diamond rings replaced with iron bands. I watched as a woman whose son was stolen from her wept into my mother's shoulder and begged her to protect me.

"But here's one reason I don't support the ban. I _also_ saw how those in the throes of ignorant hysteria shot my mother filthy looks just for being a _magician._ I watched as she married Joseph O'Conor to increase her financial stability after her own career was ruined. As years passed and minds dulled, I watched as she became so broken and disgusted with herself that when I was accepted into Yaits, she ripped my letter out of my hands and tore it to shreds in front of me, _screaming_ at me to give up on a dream that would only bring pain and hatred in my direction. The _other_ pain that _you_ deny exists.

"But I was stronger than her. I knew then and I know now that blaming and banning a fairy gift for the satisfaction of the few instead of respecting it for its wonders is as lopsided a thought as fairies becoming humans. I knew that prohibitions always have their dissidents, and I was going to be one of them, even in secret. Even if… even if in the end, I was shamed beyond belief."

"You are conceited in your good fortune."

"There is no conceit in existing. Besides, you have no evidence to prove the ban made anything better at all. And where is all of this coming from? How do you already know about my convictions, and why is it that you can censure me to satisfy your own bitterness? How can you expel me for what I believe in?"

"Because what you believe is no longer appropriate in our modern world. You're insensitive and offensive. You rant to me now with your callow, one-sided views. There's no argument for you continuing to stain our guild's name. Now, Herschel is more than pleased to cut ties with anyone who doesn't agree with the guild's principles, and he will bring the paperwork to our rendezvous point in the real world."

"Not until you tell me why you're allowed to traduce a colleague. You're conceited yourself if you have to sack a fellow because you can't tolerate his opinion, especially when he's never outright told it to you. You know what? I guess I have told you now, and I might as well continue. I believe in upholding our fairy traditions. I believe that dark magic is not a malevolent force, and if we don't respect it _and_ the beings who use it, magic itself is going to fizzle out, and the fair folk will cease to exist."

"We're perfectly aware of your little paranoid delusions. Spearca Caeruleum, in cooperation with the the Council, have been monitoring you through your dreams. That is why we know so much about you."

Arthur dropped his teacup. It shattered on the ceiling.

"A funny thing. You see, it is in thoughts and dreams where a person's guard is the lowest, and if a magician has practiced a certain ancient piece of dream magic, they may easily slip in and out of a subject's dreams to check up on them in their waking lives. We have been able to listen to every offensive comment that slips past your lips."

"You've been _spying_ on me."

"There was enough reasonable suspicion, and once we saw you bonding with that _creature,_ there was no doubt we had to continue. You see, we judged you to be a dangerous character, Kirkland. We sent you on this mission to understand how your mind works if you are not constantly supervised. It seems all our assumptions were true. So you've stored your burned literature in a secret volume, prompting you to continue your criminal activity, and a creature of darkness names you its truest _friend!"_

"You invaded my privacy without my consent," Arthur squeaked. "I'll testify…"

"To whom will you testify? Even if the Council was on your side, you're soon to be transformed into a frog. That's your last choice of a new form, isn't it? We know because you've dreamed about it."

"So you've watched me suffer in my nightmares."

"We tried to warn you _with_ nightmares! But they only riled you up, didn't they? I suppose that means they were beneficial in proving your case. At least you're prepared for what is to come."

"You tested me to see what I'm afraid of, and you're using my fears as inspiration for torture. You cur! Don't you know animal transformation as punishment is illegal?"

The guild-master leaned forward in his seat and chuckled darkly. "No one is versed in the language of frogs. And even if someone did find out you were transformed, you would only be taken as an example of what happens to those who make friends with changelings."

"So you silence your enemies by any means necessary so you can keep pushing your own twisted ideals on everyone else? Dark magic is evil… magicians should be scrutinized… magic should be regulated… And the next thing you're going to say is that magic itself is a downright hindrance and should be abolished. Do you think we're going to change into humans? Because I'd much rather die."

"Fairies are not going to die, and neither is magic."

"Then explain how we're repeating history. Something happened long ago that upset the Grand Energetic Balance, and you'd have to be a blathering idiot not to recognize the entropy. Winged fairies can no longer sing. The Isle fairies are neglecting their dark side, weakening it with each new generation. The only ones who remain extremely powerful are the fairies of darkness, and that's because they have too much power! They're dead and alive at the same time! Perpetually hungry and committing evil acts for attention because they've been neglected for centuries!"

"Then you know the legend?"

"Of course I know the legend. We, the ancient Fae of All Magic, wanted to ally with the bloody _humans,_ but the humans didn't accept us, and the ancient Fae of Darkness were against an alliance. So what did we do? We cursed the Fae of Darkness by filling them up with our own magic until they turned into ugly shadowborns and we turned mundane enough to cooperate with bloody _humans._

 _"_ That story is told to children so they learn to fear the darkness. _I_ used to be terrified by it. But what was the true darkness? What happened after the Fae of Darkness were bound to shadows? They became _changelings_ and swapped themselves for children because no one would love them. Tensions between fairies and humans rose anyway, and there was war and war and _war!_ "

"But look at our modern nation rising from the ashes of war!"

"Look at how this nation once again shuns its own nature! Magic is _dying!"_

"Marvel at our modern nation! Science! Technology! Industry! The Isle of Rain is witnessing the birth of an industrial revolution! The first in the world for such progress! We are _further_ than humans, and if we didn't want to be like them, we would never have gotten here! You see how it comes full circle. People like you, who have their minds in the past, are hindering this progress. And so you must be weeded out so the young people have appropriate leadership."

Arthur's chest squeezed. He choked back tears that had started to form. He was a young person, wasn't he? In the prime of his youth, and educated! Then why was he different? Why couldn't he follow the ignorant masses and blame dark magic for its hurtful deeds? All he wanted was to continue the practice of magic… to practice magic like all fairies should… to _avoid_ a shift in the status quo… And if no one ever trusted him just because of one mistake, one mistake made out of loneliness and desperation stemming from the very problems people like Penn couldn't understand…

"How are evil people like you appropriate leaders!?"

"We are certainly more appropriate than _dissidents_ like yourself. Really, are you trying to tell me you have the makings of a leader? There is _no one_ to support you, and _no one_ would follow you."

Arthur felt himself impaled by the wickedness of the words. They stabbed right through his heart and out his back. But in passing through, they struck something deep within that became agitated and aggressive. It burned in his bones and snaked through his veins and turned his vision a blinding red. A scintillating, powerful red. For the first time, Arthur felt confident in the way he knew Alfred must have. Eternally confident in a sea of doubt and discouragement. In that moment, he knew that even if he was the only enlightened one in a world of fools, he would never let those fools win completely. He would stand for his own ideals to be a beacon in the darkness. A beacon _of_ the darkness. Of balance. Of another side. Of a different light.

He would make society hear the silence it had created.

"So I'm _nothing!?_ Is that the way it's meant to be!?"

"Yes. That is why being a frog will suit you. You needn't be afraid of the transformation. I can assure you that once your mind degenerates to an amphibian's, it will be completely painless."

"I don't want any part of your transformation."

"You have no choice. This is what we have decided."

"No, I'm not subject to your decisions. I will not accept punishment because of what I stand for. I'll live the rest of my life as a fairy, not a frog. A man, not a monster. A person, not an example. And you'll live with me just as I am forever, knowing exactly what I think of you and your dogma. I will stand for everyone you've silenced and everyone you've beguiled. You will _hear_ the silence, and it will be _deafening!"_

"We are not here to speak in riddles, Kirkland."

"I'll do what I like. I'm not afraid of you."

"Neither am I of you."

He shot up from his seat. "Shut up! I'm not afraid of any of you anymore! Don't you get it!? Come at me with all you've got, and I will show you I'm not afraid! You believe I'm dangerous!? Then you've made a dangerous enemy! I will oppose you for _eternity!_ "

"Then when you are done with disposing of the wicked changeling, you will meet Podipel and Herschel and me at the Port de Langue, and we'll see just how well you can avoid the wrath of a nation that has moved past its vices."

Arthur sneered, crimson fortitude flooding through his being.

"See you there."

* * *

He awoke dripping with sweat. Arthur blinked. Had that… had that been real? Or was it just a very, _very_ vivid dream? The fact that he was able to remember every word from both him and the guild master was frightening. And everything had seemed so solid and unchanging. Was the dream a creation of Penn? Or someone from the Council? It had to just be another tactic to scare him. He hadn't just rejected punishment, no matter how unfair, right? He hadn't just told his own guild master he wasn't afraid and would oppose him forever?

Arthur sat up, licking his lips and clutching his chest. His heart was pounding. It was just a dream. Just a silly dream… where he was told he was monitored through dreams… No, no, that was just a paranoid delusion. His mind was playing tricks on him. He'd said too much last night. He'd left his heart open.

"Jus' gettin' the boat'n the wader. Goona swing out 'n tryda ketch s'm crappies…"

Arthur pushed himself up from the blankets he'd laid down next to Lovino's bed. His back protested, but he rolled his shoulders and crawled out to see Alfred still curled up in the corner. The boy had grown _feathers_ in his sleep this time. Little brown and white patches of them had cropped up over his skin like downy scales. A fang pinched his bottom lip as he smiled in the midst of some northern dream.

"Help! _Help!_ Changeling! Evil, ugly _creature!"_

Arthur muttered curses under his breath. Strange how occurrences like these had become the norm to him over the past few months. The screams and cries when he opened the window were enough to rouse Alfred from his sleep. He groaned and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Wha? I grew _feathers_ in my sleep? Heh, they're even pretty soft. I guess I was cold last night, but I was _human_ in my dream. Human and hungry for hotdish. And it turns out I'm hungry in the real world, too!"

"Good morning, Alfred," Arthur yawned as he worked to close the window again. Of what he'd heard, the dangerous creature had _black_ eyes. Not the Mercs' man. Unfortunate, but dangerous to get involved with.

The changeling stood up and stretched. Feathers either molted around him or withered into hair. His claws retreated, and his fangs flattened. "What's goin' on out there?"

"Nothing to be concerned with."

"I thought I heard someone screaming about a changeling."

"Well, yes, but it's not Gilbert."

Alfred looked pensive for a second. Hollow eyes analyzed an invisible realm of information. "No, it wouldn't be Gilbert. Gilbert would never let himself get caught…"

Then his stance shifted, and his lips pursed. Alfred threw himself at the window and tore it open just in time to hear the guards below stewing in fresh anxiety about a changeling with blue-black eyes which had already attempted to steal a child and managed to beguile a man. He turned, then, and his expression was one of reckless urgency.

"I gotta help him. I know this town. If he's new here, he's gonna be trapped in no time. And… and with everything that's been going on, I don't know if they'll treat him nicely. Who am I kidding? If I don't do something, they're gonna kill 'im!"

"Alfred, this is not your fight!"

"Then why don't you help 'im? You wanna respect us, don't you?"

"We're in _Amotoile._ All beings of magic aren't taken seriously here, except for maybe Allegrians, and you know that's just because they're pretty. The suspicion would be just as high for me as it would be for you. We already have a changeling we're after, and that's Gilbert."

"What if it's Mathias!? His eyes are dark gray, but sometimes they look blue!"

"Why would Mathias try to steal a child? He has a human shape already."

The bottomless stare settled upon him. Arthur's skin prickled. His heart started racing again. For a second, he imagined himself wanting to help the unknown changeling. He was friends with Alfred, wasn't he? He would never take back those words. He _knew_ his heart had changed. But… those bulging eyes… and eating flies…

"You look kinna green, milord."

"I look _what!?"_ He looked at his hands in shock. No, no, they weren't green. They were pale and small, and that clamminess was sweat, not slime.

"You look really uptight about something—"

"Yes, well, maybe I'm a little uptight right now. I just had a terrible nightmare, and I don't know what to think of it, and—"

"Well, think about it. I'm going to save that changeling," Alfred scoffed as he threw open the door and marched down the hall still in his pajamas.

Arthur, in much the same attire, bounded after him. He threw out his hand, and a twinkling veil squeezed around his target. He then brought Alfred, struggling, into the meeting room, where all the others were now enjoying morning coffee.

There was scuffling and struggling and yelling and hitting and punching, and Alfred's emotions grew and grew until he managed to escape the room in full pursuit of the endangered fellow. Arthur flew after him down the stairs and into the lobby. With the disorganized hysteria and lack of men, the patrolmen had only lent one body to warn this inn, leaving the door completely unblocked.

Alfred escaped.

"Should I freeze him?" Ivan asked once he had managed to maneuver his tree-like form down the stairs.

"Leave it to me," said Francis. "My rank is camouflage. I'll treat him as someone who is worried about a friend on the other side of town and make him return. The other one I shall see about."

"But he's been seen in this town before! They know he's the blond changeling! You can't be seen with him!" Arthur protested.

"Our measures to hide him are only precautions. These patrolmen I hired are from out of town, and the people who did see Alfred that night were insensible. There's a low chance he'd be recognized."

"But what about Fleur de Vie? And they're bound to be suspicious at least. If Alfred's forgotten to round his ears—"

Francis gripped Arthur's shoulder with a heavy hand. The fairy could make out how the knight's ears were still a fair bit fuzzy under his broad, feathered hat. The skin of his nose looked red and irritated with a few stretch scars lining the curves. "Amotoile is a large country. He is not the only one spreading fear throughout its cities."

He then left Arthur in the lobby by himself to contemplate. Worriedly, he sat himself down on the squashy couch and stared out the window at the guards and patrolmen scampering this way and that like chickens who had seen a fox. Maybe… maybe the taunting and the summons was all just a dream. If anything, it was a dream. Alfred was real. Alfred was his friend, and he was in danger.

"Should we intervene, Ivan?"

"I could freeze entire town easily. But I have no need to. Do you have need?"

"Francis won't be able to deal with Alfred by himself. I can tell you that much. He has no idea how clever that boy is. Clever and powerful… oh, oh no."

"What?"

"Didn't Francis just say his rank is camouflage?"

"He did."

"What would Alfred do if he were somehow alone with a man whose appearance would give him immunity to suspicion?"

"But Alfred does not want to be on Francis' bad side."

"He knows he's already on Francis' bad side. After ruminating over our argument yesterday, I think it's safe to say that Francis is one of those people who just can't accept something no matter how hard he tries to convince himself. He sees Alfred's inherent goodness and wants to to treat him as a friend, but when it comes down to the bare bones, he's been trained as a knight to see changelings as dangerous. Maybe Alfred wants to change Francis' heart, but he's certainly suspicious of Francis' behavior. And right now, when Alfred's doubting himself, he'll do anything to assure himself of his own goodness."

"So you think he will have transformed into Francis?"

"I'd bet on it. That means Francis won't be able to stop him, which means you and I have that honor. Come on, let's…"

Slime. Shame. Powerlessness.

No.

"Let's go save him."

* * *

He had to admit the plan was detailed. How Gilbert was able to scheme like this was another of the wonders Ludwig had learned to love about his magical brother. But he was still concerned. When Gilbert had applied the glamour, it almost looked like his features sharpened and his eyes deepened. He'd appeared almost… fanatical. Willing to do whatever was needed despite risks or dangers. Willing to put Ludwig in danger when he'd only yesterday sobbed about never again leaving his side. And he'd used a spell on his brother, breaking an oath he'd kept since Ludwig was an infant!

Was it because he was focused on his magic? Or was Ludwig perhaps seeing a glimpse of the _old_ Gilbert? The one that knew no compassion and felt no remorse? The… _evil_ Gilbert?

These questions were difficult to ponder when he was currently humiliating himself crying out in despair. Seeing such skinny limbs moving in front of him was terribly disturbing, and even moreso was how he _felt_ his body had become what it resembled. True, he could concentrate and still feel his strong human form covered up by the illusion, but if he lost focus, he felt small and fragile and even a little nauseous.

He had nothing of Gilbert's quick mind or silver tongue. The only thing making these patrolmen hysterical was his appearance. In reality, he wasn't hideous. He'd looked at his reflection in a shop window and found that he bore the image of a scrawny teen wearing rags with curly white hair and freckles dotting his face. The fangs and ears were upsetting, but he was nowhere near as devilish-looking as Gilbert.

Still, humans were born to be frightened of him, and that was how Ludwig found himself trying to evade iron rods and grabbing hands in an artful scampering. He wouldn't burn, but getting hit would be painful no matter what kind of creature he was.

 _I hope Gilbert knows what he's talking about,_ he thought as he dodged a hefty guard. Really, what was the use of this plan? Get rid of Alfred? And what was the point of just Alfred? Because he knew Gilbert's weaknesses? Because he had a changeling's clever mind? Perhaps he was dangerous, but what about the trained magician and the king of the snow demons? What about the hoofed creature that had somehow turned human?

And what would happen when the stars came out and Ludwig transformed? Would the glamour hold? If it didn't, (hell, if Ludwig couldn't keep himself from reacting to the pain,) he already knew he'd have to guilt Alfred into not attacking him. But would Alfred want to protect Gilbert's emotional stability after learning of his true nature?

Ludwig would have to threaten Alfred. He would have to make the changeling boy know that if he hurt the dog-man in any way, he would bring the wrath of the dark wizard Gilbert upon himself. And this was not not the silly foolery of a mischievous woodland fairy, but the evil spite of a creature cracked from fear and loneliness. A creature that had cursed people in the past and wouldn't hesitate if anyone dared hurt his beloved little _Tauschlein._

"Go _away!_ Just let me leave! I'll leave your town and never come back!" He cried while awkwardly flailing his arms and trying desperately to look desperate.

"Child-stealer!"

"Beguiler!"

 _"_ _Il est moche!"_

Ludwig focused and threw a punch at the biggest of them, but even his human strength was glamoured, and the man didn't stumble backwards when he should've.

The assailant stepped back fearfully nonetheless. Pathetic, Ludwig thought. Rather than trained patrolmen, these sounded like mothers who were scolding a bully. Their ill words only fueled his anger. He bared his pointed teeth at the ring closing around him. There was fear in their eyes, and they held their weapons with trembling hands.

"If you won't let me leave, I'll fight back with all my horrible powers. But I won't be the one who's hurting others."

The patrolmen were too dense to understand. "Of course you'll be! Get him before he works any spells!" Their apparent leader cried.

The circle squeezed and tightened until Ludwig could smell the foul odor of sweat. His arms were firmly behind his back before he could react. Without his strength functioning, the men had tackled him to the ground, and he was firmly stuck under their weight. His chin scraped the pavement. Something searing and wet smeared on his cheek. For a moment, his vision faltered.

 _Come on, I'm stronger than this! This is humiliating! Gilbert should be ashamed!_ He rallied, but the arms of the brave held him down, and he lost all focus. If only he were the dog-man, they would be sent flying! Perhaps when night fell…

A strange feeling brushed the side of his neck. It was rough and terribly cold, but at the same time, it was wrapped in a phantom warmth. An imaginary scent of smoke wafted through the air. He tried craning his neck, but someone grabbed hold of his glamoured ears and forced his head to the pavement. Ludwig already knew what the feeling was. An iron was being held to his skin.

Realizing this, he shrieked in feigned agony and writhed under the grip. They seized his spidery hands and his skinny ankles. The brand pressed further into his neck, tingling cold and faintly warm. Phantom flames crawled up his skin. The illusory smoke made him cough. His cheek pulsed where it was torn.

 _Even if I'm not waiting for execution, this is undeniably cruel…_

It was this realization that made him cry out in genuine pain. No, he would never understand the sorrow of the families who lost their loved ones. He would never understand the terror of young Roderich when he watched Gilbert shift into his image, or the relief of Lord Edelstein when he signed for Gilbert's execution. But that was just it. The victims weren't the only victims. They were just as cruel and heartless as they painted the darkness to be.

It was a never-ending ring, looped in on itself and tangled so fiercely it could never be resolved. The children were taken and swapped. The people were frightened and spiteful. The changelings were lonely and vengeful. The children were taken and swapped. No one was happy, and no one could ever be happy. No one could ever win.

And so it continued.

"Let me _go!"_ Ludwig cried even when the iron didn't burn and the pressure was nothing on his glamoured body.

He was carried over the pavement with heavy arms slung around his middle and legs. They perceived his body as weightless, and his hidden strength was no use in struggling. He could see nothing but the dirty stones and the blackened bricks. Once, he thought he saw a fluffy, taupe-colored cat eyeing him, but it was gone the moment a guard gripped his ear again.

 _"_ _Arrêtez!"_

The march stopped. The grip around him tensed. What was happening? Who had spoken?

"Do not take him any further. Release him, and let me see him. You idiots haven't even followed the proper protocol! Why did you burn him!? _Idiots!"_

It was Sir Francis. The hands released, and Ludwig was made to stand on his own feet. Now was his chance to escape. Now he would escape without Alfred and forget this joke of a scheme Gilbert had dreamed up. It wasn't even Alfred who had come to rescue him. When he looked up, he indeed saw Sir Francis standing there with none to assist him.

At least Sir Francis looked quite distraught himself.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Arts, you are in big trouble.**

 **If I'm not on your author alert list, and you don't know about part one of _Grape Leaves,_ go find it on my profile! It's a three-part side story about Lovino and his experiences at fairy school... at least up until... you know... ^^**

 **Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . net October 7, 2018. Reposting is forbidden, and reposters will witness Gilbert's wrath. Yes, I found you, reposter. If it's not yours, it's not yours to repost. Please take it down.**


	66. The Plot Unravels

"You can see what a mess hysteria makes of things, Ivan. Here we can go for a walkabout in broad daylight, and none care to stop us."

"That is not what you said in capital."

"Oh, don't remind me of the capital," Arthur grumbled. He wished to forget the night in the capital when he'd been beaten and bruised for defending Alfred's escape. It was so embarrassing! But that night, for whatever reason, he had genuinely cared about a changeling's safety before his own. And despite everything, here he was, out in the bitter cold of November, on the way to save that changeling's neck yet again. He was left with the odd card, and his fate was inexorable. Arthur brought a hand to his chest. Already he could feel the sickly liquid pouring down his throat and warping his body from the inside out.

Slime and shame. Forgotten forever.

"Do not worry about the future," Ivan said suddenly.

The demon had stopped beside him. Arthur turned to gaze up into the purple eyes. Ivan's goatish nose twitched, yet only matter-of-fact indifference marked his countenance.

"I thought Francis said we weren't allowed to conspire against each other. That should include a right to privacy."

"You do not trust little Francis."

Arthur pursed his lips. "You've always gone right to the point, my demonic friend. Oh, there I've gone and said it again. Alfred would mock me if he heard. You see? There I go and think of Alfred. He caused all this. Now I'm going to suffer a fate worse than death, and the poor boy only wanted to help me. I thank him for it, but still, that dream must have been real. I'm ruined. My life was so short. I never even got to woo a woman with covert benefaction."

"Funny creature."

"Why am I funny?"

"Because you worry about the future. I told you you should not, and you did."

"It must be a privilege to be without worry. You don't have to suffer the ordeal of feeling invincible and powerless at the same time."

"Maybe it will not be bad."

Arthur was about to retort, but he held his tongue, for the guards who had previously missed their presence were now beginning to come out of their hysterical blindness. They patrolled the streets two-by-two in straight lines once more. Arthur squeezed himself up against a garden wall and beckoned for the demon to do the same. Ivan could only cock his head at this. There was no way the wall could conceal his stature, and why might he be frightened by a few powerless humans?

"Can you smell either one of them? Alfred or Francis?"

The goatish nose twitched again. "Do not ask silly questions, little fairy. We have been on scent trail this whole time. And… there they are." Ivan pointed with a huge, clawed finger over the wall of which Arthur was pressed against. "On the far side. There they are, wrestling beneath trellis. Hello, friends!"

"Dang it! No! I'm not going back!"

It was Alfred. Arthur heaved a sigh. With the demon along, there could be no uncertainty as to who was who. Alfred hadn't even transformed into Francis yet. There was still hope that not everything would be ruined before they could quit this wretched town.

It seemed Arthur's inference had been accurate. Francis suddenly piped up in the most whinging tone Arthur had ever heard out of him, "He has got my hair! He is pulling my beautiful hair! Stop him at once!"

The demon smiled.

"What? What can you see?" Arthur asked.

"Little changeling really is pulling his hair. Is funny."

"Don't just stand there, then! We're supposed to stop him from winning! We cannot let Alfred endanger himself again!"

"Just watch me!" Alfred exclaimed. "I'm sorry, milord, but it's a hero's duty to help people in need!"

Arthur rolled his eyes."Hoist me over the wall, Ivan. I can talk him down. And do take care not to freeze me while you're at it."

"I would not want to do that. You are not even dressed."

"I'm not even — Great Titania, I'm still in my pajamas! No wonder it's so damn cold!"

"You did not notice?"

"Never mind that. Just hoist me over the wall."

Ivan bent down and scooped Arthur up. The fairy began shivering when the huge hands came in contact with his pin-striped pajamas. Patches of crystalline frost spread from the tips of his claws. And then Arthur, short in stature, could feel the sheer _strength_ of the demon as the grip around his ribs tightened and his feet left the ground. For the second time that morning, his heart began to pound with the cold and heavy cadence of anxiety.

And then, without warning, Ivan flung him up into the air, and he went sailing over the wall. He had scarcely the time to cry out before he landed with a _wh_ _ump_ in a garden box filled only with frozen soil and the crinkly remains of harvested vegetables. The soil stained his hands and filled his tartan slippers with clods.

"Why the bloody hell did you _throw_ me!?"

"They were coming," Ivan said simply. The demon's head and shoulders visible above the wall then turned to greet the invisible patrolmen beneath.

Arthur trembled as he pushed himself up. Instantly, he was met with the sight of Francis once again trying to restrain the changeling boy. Alfred was also in his pajamas, kicking without even shoes on his feet. Francis' grand feathered hat had been knocked off, revealing his still-fuzzy ears.

"Little help here, Arts?" Alfred asked with an expression of exaggerated innocence.

"Do not help him! We are just going to get into more trouble!" Francis argued.

"Because you don't _trust_ me!" Alfred exclaimed.

"I do trust you! I don't trust the ones that steal away children!"

"Stigma! Stigma! Arts, help me!"

Arthur sighed. "Release him, Francis. I can take things from here."

Francis, at first not trusting this notion, held on as tightly as he could. But with a few knowing looks from Arthur, he slowly released his grip, and the changeling boy came free. Arthur thrust his hand toward Alfred and gently pressed him against the garden wall with a twinkling veil. Again he squirmed and cursed. Arthur gestured with his free hand for Francis to leave the garden via a door on the closest side. Francis bent down, picked up his hat, plopped it down on his head, and left promptly with the most distraught of expressions.

"Let me go," Alfred bit.

"You were going to take his shape, weren't you?"

"No."

"Yes," Arthur said, nodding.

"Okay fine. Maybe. But I wanna help my fellow! An' now I _know_ Francy isn't gonna be nice with those accusations against the changeling. I won't know if he really meant to steal a kid or not unless I get to talk to him myself. So let me go!"

"You just lost your means of disguise."

"I could find him again. Or I could transform into a bird! Let me be an eagle! Or a sparrow, even! I'd settle for a sparrow. You could put me in your pocket, 'n I wouldn't even peep."

Arthur strode up so he came face-to-face with his friend. "You must realize the situation we're in."

"So what? Feli's safe with Mattie and Yao! I don't care if I get run outta town. I'd just disguise myself and come back in. Please, milord, just let me see what's going on. I just wanna see what's happening. I might not even have to do anything. You can even come with me. I'll only jump in if you say it's okay. Please?"

"You don't even have shoes on, and it's freezing!"

"Back home it can be so cold your nose hairs freeze and they doneven cancel school."

For a little while, Arthur could only stare and contemplate. There was no way Alfred would let this go. And if he _couldn't_ go rescue his fellow, what was the lesson learned over the course of the mission? Sure, the fairies of darkness were mistreated, but did justice not serve a purpose? Maybe this unknown changeling really did try to steal a child away, and that would be unforgivable.

"Francis can question him."

"I don't trust Francis."

"I know you don't. I don't either. But really, if this changeling did try to steal a child, it's not something we can traipse around. It's a serious matter, and he may deserve due punishment."

"I know," Alfred pouted. "I know, and it's just awful… but can we please just see if he's okay?"

"And how do you propose we do that? We're supposed to be in a lockdown, not to mention that our current attire is wildly inappropriate. And surely you remember how I was _attacked_ in this town."

"We've got that invisibility spell you used to get us out from under the table."

"I… I suppose that could work, but I'm not helping you again, Alfred. Surely you've learned your lesson about recklessness. Anyway, my dream—"

"Come on, Arts. It was just a dream. It's not like it's real or anything. Don't be a wimp."

"It _was_ real! I spoke with my guild master, and he told me of my inexorable future! I'm in _real_ trouble. That wasn't confidence I had in my dream. It was _audacity._ "

"W'll, the future's not real until it gets here."

Arthur gave a long, tired sigh, then averted his gaze. His fingers twitched, and the veil around Alfred loosened. Perhaps with all the distractions, a pair of distortions in the air wouldn't be too much of a shock. His morals pushed him over the edge of the cliff once again.

"Just this once."

"You mean you'll come with me?"

"Yes, I'll come with you to keep you in line. But if this turns out like it did in the capital, you can forget this foolishness of yours forever. No more recklessness. And whatever happens, it's your responsibility to explain to your brother the reason why this was necessary."

"Mattie'll understand."

"Oh, now that's a daft lie, and we both know it."

* * *

"Evacuation."

Matthew fidgeted worriedly at the word, while Yao narrowed his eyes and stiffened his critical posture. Between them, Feliciano stood trembling. His hair wasn't any tidier, and his overall appearance was even more disheveled. Still, a tiny ray of hope sparked in his clouded eyes. He anxiously stepped forward to take Gilbert's hand.

"Just for him?" Yao asked.

"Persons at reasonable risk," Gilbert said smoothly. "According to our reports, the several incidents, including the lockdown in the capital last month, have somehow been linked to a Signor Feliciano Vargas Roma. Being that he comes from a wealthy Allegrian household, it has been decided that he and any other persons at risk are to be evacuated from town at this time."

"Can't they apprehend the changeling seen earlier?" Matthew asked.

"Whether it is apprehended or not, an evacuation must take place to ensure Signor Vargas Roma's absolute safety. Only one changeling has been discovered, but we have to take into consideration the possibility of a conspiracy."

Gilbert pronounced the last word with distaste and relished the startled look in Matthew's eyes.

"Then my brother can come with, too?" Feliciano blurted.

"Of course. He does come from the same family."

Without any hesitation, Feliciano pushed past his guardians and threw his arms around Gilbert, squeezing him with a surprising amount of strength. The changeling stiffened. How brutal Feli's captors must have been! At least the spell in his mind was kind enough to keep itself anonymous. Feliciano was trembling. His wings quivered like leaves in a storm desperately clinging to their boughs. Their golden color had darkened and faded.

"Come on, Felice, let's leave this kind hospitality behind," Lovino seethed from behind the guard. His face was stretched into a venomous sneer of victory.

"Isn't there a way one of us could come with? When will we see Feliciano again?" Yao pressed.

"I do not think the investigation will take long. Feliciano will be detained in the nearest town over until we have sifted through this one. There is an order for salt already. The best thing you can do is remain here. We can't take any chances this time around. I'd say by late tomorrow it should be safe for him to return."

"I-I think I'm at reasonable risk," Matthew blurted. "I was—"

Yao elbowed him in the stomach, and he sheepishly shrank back under the weight of what he could've revealed.

"Are you ready, then?" Gilbert asked the fairy. "You must let go of me. This gratitude is gratuitous!"

Reluctantly, Feli's grip loosened. _"Sì, sì."_

And so, with the two mercenaries unable to give any protest, and with their suspicions reasonably low for a member of the guard, Gilbert escorted Feliciano, Lovino, and Kiku tagging along, out the doors and into the streets. It was here when his demeanor changed instantly. He turned to Feliciano, who was trembling twice as much in the cold.

"You have a human friend waiting for you. He told me how you were in danger, and I was sent to fetch you without raising alarms for any changeling conspiracies."

"A human friend!?" Feliciano burst out. "Was he tall and blond with really big muscles and a scary face?"

 _Two for two on the scary face, Luddy._ "Yes, that was him. I couldn't bring him up when speaking with your friends—"

"Oh, they're not my friends! They kidnapped me, and they keep coming after me every time I escape! They swapped me with a changeling! You have to help me get away from them! Lovi, too! Please help!"

"He's right," said Lovino. "It's best you get us back to Doggie. We won't need to come back to _them_. One of them hexed me or drugged me or something last night. There's a lapse in my memory, and I woke up this morning with a raging headache before I fainted. Besides, it would make sense if there was a conspiracy. Doggie just _insisted_ on helping that _imp._ "

"Stop with the nonsense, Lovi. I can barely handle my headache already," Feliciano whispered.

"Do you think this is related to your affliction, Fairy-ciano?" Kiku asked.

Feliciano sniffled. "No, it's not that. I'm just so cold, and my wings hurt."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at the strange assortment of the three. "Then it's best I escort you two and your…"

"Dishonored spirit."

"Dishonored spirit to your true friend. Would you also like it if I reported your captors? You said they swapped you. This means they are obviously part of a conspiracy."

"A thousand times, yes! _Grazie! Grazie mille!"_ Feliciano exclaimed in a fervor. His eyes were wet, and he rubbed them while trying desperately to control his shivering.

"And what did you say your friend's name was? D-doggie?"

"Doggie is his nickname! He's Loota-vig! Loota-vig of Folka-burg!"

"Ah, then this is the same man I met. Come with me. I told him to meet us at a rendezvous point. Again, to avoid provoking any evident conspiracies."

"Right, right," Feliciano whispered.

 _The plan moves smoothly along. I wonder if Ludwig is all right. Hopefully he's keeping Alfred busy. Ach, he'll probably gripe to me later about being a damsel in distress, but when this is all over, he'll praise me for my cleverness._

He eyed Feliciano with a hungry gaze. _We're so close, Luddy. We're so close, I can almost see that amulet now. Once we have it, we'll never despair again. We'll be the victors over agony and adversity. And what mercy I will bestow upon Roderich Edelstein! Transformed into a fat little fowl when I could do so much more… Yes, I could do_ so _much more to him…_

"Why do you look so angry!?" Feliciano cried.

Gilbert looked to see the fairy had stopped and was facing him with a horrified expression. A chill wind whipped through the air, and dark clouds had gathered to turn the sky a dismal gray.

 _Woe to whoever's out here in his pajamas,_ Gilbert thought. Then he addressed Feliciano's concern. "The cold is making me sick as well. Let's hurry. Your friend will be meeting us sometime soon."

He led them through the eerily silent streets. Excellent, he thought. Ludwig must have caused quite a stir. The few patrolmen he met he dismissed with his brilliant idea for an evacuation of persons at risk. The excuse proved to be not only legitimate, but celebrated. Of course saving the adorable Allegrian was a top priority when there could be conspiracies of changelings about. Feliciano could only help the cause with his shivering and crestfallen countenance.

 _If push comes to shove, I'm armed with my flute now. What's one little curse for Lud's salvation and my revenge? Nothing can stop me. What's done is done. Feliciano is mine to control, and his amulet is mine to keep._

"Hello, little fiend! What is your nature?"

Gilbert stiffened. Towering above him was the snow demon Ivan. His enormous shadow blotted out what light made it through the clouds.

 _Crap! Does the glamour cover me? Don't think!_

Feliciano squeezed his arms around Gilbert, burying his face into his chest and whimpering. Lovino blanched and stepped back. The "dishonored spirit" made the slightest thoughtful purse of the lips.

"D-demon," Gilbert stuttered. "Did you address me?"

"Of course. Demons can see what little fairies cannot. I can see you are fiend, but I cannot tell what you are. Your shape is blurry."

"I am not a fiend! I am escorting these gentlemen to a safe evacuation point. They are at risk of a changeling conspiracy."

"Is that so?" Ivan looked into the distance thoughtfully. "But you think evil thoughts. I cannot see them completely, but—"

"I do not think evil thoughts! Now get your shaggy hindquarters out of my way." Gilbert reached inside his sleeve the best he could with the Allegrian clinging to him. The wood of the flute was electric between his fingers. For but a brief second, he felt younger and full of audacity. This was just like the old days when the dark wizard's malice knew no limits. If this demon dared stand in his way…

Ivan did stand in his way. His goatish nose twitched in badly-stifled shame. The temperature dropped severely. Feliciano let go of Gilbert and hid himself under his brother's cloak to warm his aching wings. His whimpering grew ever louder.

Gilbert grimaced. "See what you've done? You've scared him. He's already suffering from the cold, and you made it worse. Just what are you doing here, anyway? Even if you mean no harm, _demon,_ we are all under lockdown."

Gilbert thought he was clever in saying this. He'd pushed the demon into a corner. But Gilbert's confidence in his cleverness couldn't stop Ivan from bending his huge form over and reaching out to grab the little changeling. Gilbert's reflexes fired. He dodged and side-stepped to where Lovino was cowering and hugging Feliciano close under his cloak.

"I don't know what this big fuzzball wants, but here's the deal. If I tell you to run, you run out of town on the east side and head to the fire ring surrounded by a mosaic. Wait for Ludwig there. I assure you he'll come," Gilbert whispered.

"But I can't fly!" Lovino whined.

"Be quiet, Lovi! The demon is looking at us!" His brother hissed.

Ivan took one curious glance over a garden wall before putting his full attention upon the guard. He stomped forward, his horns and claws glowing a vicious white.

"I am king of demons," he said darkly. "No one, demon or else, is allowed to call me 'big fuzzball.' You are going to apologize, and I am going to punish you."

"Go ahead and run, fly, do whatever. The communal fire pit. Ludwig will come to the communal fire pit with the mosaic around its rim. Do you understand?"

 _"_ _Sì!"_ Feliciano screeched. He threw off the cloak and jumped six feet in the air. He sank under his own weight before slowly rising to hover above his brother. "No, please, Doggie's waiting! Just _work!"_ He grunted to his wilting wings.

"You're just going to leave me!?" Lovino sassed.

"I can… show you where to go from up high! Just… follow me!" His brother chirped, already fatigued from the strain.

Ivan was not pleased. "Little fairies may not have insulted me, but I will not let them escape either. You are not human, and you think evil thoughts." He reached out his hand, and a winter wind hit Feliciano in the gut. He spiraled downward, but managed to keep himself from hitting the ground. The dark clouds above blackened. Snow began to pour from the heavens.

Feliciano gave a sharp cry before slamming back into the ground. "Run, Lovi! We have to run! I can't fly, or my wings will freeze!"

Gilbert was completely unaware of the fairies' plight. All he wanted to see was their departure toward the mosaic fire ring. He cursed in frustration before the swirling wind gave him a devilish idea.

He sharpened his teeth and chomped down on the inside of his lip hard enough for tears to come to his eyes and for his emotions to work in his favor. Gilbert channeled the pain into a scream. Instantly, he could feel the air churning around him. A second icy wind began to swirl about, knocking the first away. He screamed louder and louder at the demon, forcing all his pain and rage into the squall. The ends of Ivan's tattered scarf flew behind him like snakes. He bent his apparent knees and steadied his weight… but the force couldn't phase him.

"You are so powerful! What are you?" Ivan inquired. Gilbert cursed and whipped his flute out of his sleeve. The wind couldn't even nudge the demon!

In his peripheral vision, he could see Lovino and Feliciano stumbling along side-by-side toward the east. They were taken care of. Ludwig should have no problem as soon as Alfred rescued him. Perhaps he'd even been rescued already. Gilbert smirked. Perhaps his curses wouldn't work on a creature of such stature and strength, but it was worth trying. It would be an even bigger mess to become the black eagle when he had such important cargo to carry.

He settled on a simple pain curse. Gilbert pursed his lips and began to play. His plump human lips hindered his performance, but he could feel the magical energy twisting and flowing out of his instrument. He eyed the demon. Any second now, if it worked, Ivan would be in agony.

Ivan certainly noticed something. He began scratching at his sides and arms. His nose twitched in discomfort. Gilbert continued to play. He poured his emotions into the piece. _Stronger, louder, more painful than you've ever experienced! Hurt, demon, hurt! Feel my power! My wrath! I am the one you should fear most in your black-hearted castle of ice! I will rule over all creatures! With an army of birds!_

He didn't notice a peculiar "slipping" feeling coming over him. It was the haphazard glamour unraveling and falling around his feet like a discarded cloak. When it had fully come apart, the demon, (who was only very itchy and not the slightest bit in pain,) was perfectly able to see Gilbert's true shape and nature.

"Clever joke, little changeling! I see you now! You are Alfred's friend Gilbert, correct?"

Gilbert's note went sharp.

Ivan chuckled. "Snow demons have very high tolerance for pain. Even painful curses. If you wanted to harm me, you should have used heat. Cold only makes me stronger."

Gilbert opened his mouth to protest, but the demon stomped one massive boot, and the changeling found himself distracted by the sudden crystals of ice crawling up his pant legs. He let loose a second scream — this one out of pure rage. His magical voice surged in volume until shingles flew off roofs and windows shattered and bricks came loose in their mortar.

The dark wizard's rage could only be stopped, (or at least interrupted,) when the demon scooped him up in his arms and carried him off.

* * *

Ludwig was in a cage.

There was no other way to describe it. The enclosure was surreal in its construction. The floor and walls of the corridor were bare, but the walls and ceiling of the cage at its end formed a box made of iron bars twisted and swirled into artistic formations around him. He supposed he should be frightened of such a thing, so he crouched down and hugged his knees to his chest.

"How shameful! When Gilbert finds out about this, he'll gladly put Amotoile on his agenda. A _cage!_ Gilbert shrieks if he even sees a pair of scissors, but to trap one of his kind in an iron cage… It's horrible… "

He was supposed to be waiting for Sir Francis. The knight had told him the cage would only be a temporary measure to appease the hysterical patrolmen, and that he was on the "changeling's" side. But Ludwig could tell, under Gilbert's rearing, whether someone was firm in his convictions or not, and Sir Francis was obviously not looking to let him go without a thorough bout of scrutiny. Ludwig grimaced. Already Gilbert's grand plot was unraveling. Where was his hero?

The noise of the door opening aroused him from his frustrations. Ludwig peered upward through a swirl of iron. Strange… he swore he had heard it open, yet no one was there.

"Idiot!"

"Yeah, yeah, you're my best friend, too."

"You know Francis or one of those patrolmen probably has the keys."

"Francy had 'em. You didn't grab 'em?"

"How was that implied?"

"It's my plan, milord!"

"Miscommunication is going to be the downfall of man."

"Okay, maybe I should've explained it. But there isn't much to explain. I can't touch the keys, so you have to."

"And are we going to go back into Francis and scare the bloody daylights out of him again? I can only assume that _wasn't_ a part of the plan."

"Nope. That was me being mischievous."

"And why did you have to be mischievous?"

"'Cause I can't help it. No, don't pinch me! I really can't help it! Mischief makes me feel good!"

"The same way breaking your bones and mashing them together in different places makes you feel good?"

"No, that feels _better."_

"Sod off, shadowborn."

"No! It really does! It's like a full-body massage! You have a kink in your shoulder, right? Imagine that your whole skeletal structure stretches and shifts into something else, and your little kink just goes away—"

"Ergh, why can't you just transform in a flash of light or a cloud of dust or something less graphic?"

"You want me to _explode?"_

 _It's those two. Looks like it isn't ruined yet._ Ludwig thought. He sat up in his cage and peered out, trying to see where the two fairies were. But all he could see was a mysterious ripple in the air. "Is someone there?" He asked. He cringed at the smooth, stylish accent slipping off his tongue.

"There's someone over there!" Alfred exclaimed.

"Good queen, is that a cage?"

"I dunno. My changeling instincts are telling me I _really_ don't wanna look at it."

"Changeling?" Ludwig asked. "Are you another changeling? Help! It's an iron cage! I can't get out, and it's terrifying!"

"Ya see how easy this woulda been if we'd had the keys, Arts?"

"Ya see how easy it woulda ben if you woulda _tōld_ me? Thăt woulda ben sō much easier, ya knōw."

"Oof, you are bad at mimicking."

"You're far too skilled with it. And speaking of your outlandish accent, what's a crappie? You kept saying it in your sleep."

"Aw, don't make me hungrier! I didn't get breakfast!"

"What?"

"Will someone just get over here and _rescue_ me?" Ludwig roared. He gripped the swirling bars of the cage, and only when his hands grew warm and red did he realize he should keep himself as far away from the iron as possible. He scooched back and cowered, a blazing heat coming to his cheeks.

 _Gilbert had better let me have the first wish._

"Right," Arthur said, "We shouldn't be thinking about the keys anyway. We're not going behind Francis' back to rescue a potentially dangerous individual. The only reason we'd consider helping is if he proves to be innocent."

"I _am_ innocent!" Ludwig yelled.

"Welp, the dude says he's innocent, so that's enough for me! Just get him out of there. I'm gonna be waiting over here where I can't see the cage—"

"Oh, swallow your fear and press on your wrist. You're the hero, aren't you?"

The air rippled and distorted, and the forms of Alfred and Arthur — strangely both in their pajamas and one of them without shoes of any sort — materialized in the corridor. Arthur came close to the cage and peered inside at its prisoner.

"Well, you were right. This isn't Gilbert. He looks even younger than you do. Really, Alfred, just come and at least introduce yourself."

Alfred stiffened. His eyes were tightly closed, but he felt along the wall until he came close to the cage. He forced a squinting smile to his trapped fellow.

"Hi, I'm Alfred, and I'm here to rescue you." This was all he could say before he twittered madly with fear and forced himself back from the iron.

"Then just do it already. I'm ten times as afraid as you are. This is… this is so cruel what they're doing to you — _us._ I want to burn this memory from my head as quickly as possible. Get me out of this cage and out of this town."

"So you didn't try stealing a child away? And you didn't beguile anyone?"

"No. It was all a misunderstanding. You know how humans twist our words to mean what they want them to mean. I… I was asking for food."

Something about this statement was just the fuel Alfred's confidence needed. He sprang to his feet and grabbed Arthur by the shoulders.

"What kind of lock is on the cage?"

"Just a regular lock for a key."

"Where is it? I want you to take my hand and hover it over the lock. I know a fairy charm to unlock it. I doneven need to touch the lock so long as my palm hovers over it."

"Then why were you so rude about getting the keys?"

"'Cause I didn't want to have anything to do with the cage if it was iron. That was kinna one reason why I was so grateful you were coming along. You can touch it without being burned. But now I don't care. He didn't do anything wrong, and he's starving, and I'm granting him freedom. _Me."_

There was a bit of light squabbling over this, but Ludwig couldn't bring himself to listen. He was indifferent to the changeling's heroic mania and the magician's balking. He just stewed in silence wondering about Gilbert and his health. _Something_ was strangely wrong with him. Maybe Ludwig had never known before just how scarred and vengeful Gilbert was, but why did he break his oath? Why did he sound so much more wicked than he usually did? Why was he so obsessed with cursing Edelstein when he'd surely done enough to the poor duke?

Could Ludwig even hope to stop him?

His wild thoughts were interrupted by the _click_ of the lock on the cage. Ludwig hadn't even known one existed. Alfred sat against the wall twittering and clutching his hand, (which wasn't the least bit burned,) but the cage was now open, and the false fellow was free.

"Come on, come out. I wanna get a good look at you without having to look back at the cage. Arts, can you heal this? It's so hot…"

"Oh, don't be dramatic. You're not even burnt. Just get up and greet him already."

At this point, Ludwig was finished with the shameful pretense. He could be a dignified changeling if he wished. He stood up, straightened his back as Gilbert taught him, and offered his right hand forward to the paling form of Alfred. He wondered how his cold blue gaze would appear on this veil of a face. He wasn't interested in smiling. Not after what he'd realized, and certainly not now when Gilbert's affliction of the heart was so crucial to understand. And still, the quest with Feliciano persisted. Feliciano wasn't even back with him yet!

He shivered under the pressure. There was so much more to be done, and there was so much more left to know. And all the time, the sky grew darker and the wind grew colder and the winter drew nearer and the curse grew crueler.

The door suddenly swung open again. There stood Francis with a tense posture and a perturbed expression.

"Oh, crap!" Alfred exclaimed, his voice jumping to a screechy tenor.

"What? You two! Just what do you think you're doing?" Francis whined.

"Saving a fellow changeling."

"It was his idea! I didn't have anything to do with it this time! It's all his fault!" Arthur accused.

"Oh, come on, Arts. Nobody's gonna beat you up this time. Agh! Get me away from that cage! I'm seeing the heat! It's so _hot!"_

"I thought you were going to take him back to the inn, Arthur," Francis said.

"I was. I truly was. A-all he wanted was to _see_ the prisoner to make sure he wasn't dangerous. He told me he would listen if I gave him instructions to abandon his foolishness."

"You clearly allowed him to scare me!"

"You put him in a cage!" Alfred exclaimed, pointing.

"Only as a temporary measure."

"What's done is done," Ludwig declared. "The truth is, I am innocent of all your fearful fabrications, and that cage is cruel and shameful. You said you were on my side. If you want to repay me and not receive a curse on your feeble human frame, you will take me out of town. These gentlemen know some kind of invisibility spell, and it appears you know them. What is holding you back? Your dignity? You think you would be liable for my escape? Clearly, you underestimate my capabilities. I could easily escape on my own under the right circumstances."

Alfred gushed. "Woah, you're so cool! Standing up to a human like that! How old are you, anyway?"

Ludwig ignored him, keeping his intrinsic authority focused on Francis. "Let's be civil as people. Just remove me from town. I can take care of myself from there. Give me a meal for my strength, have these two take me to the gates unseen, and tell the others you were beguiled."

Francis blanched. "You sound very threatening. How do I know you are innocent? You bit a man!"

"I bit him because he tried to burn me. The rest of your guards burned me! I could do so much wrong to you. I could cast curses pulled straight from nightmares. Or you could let me walk free. It would be one thing off your plate."

But Francis had no response to this. His mind was already far too frazzled to think of any positive implications for the "changeling's" offer, and soon he would realize he had no choice at all in the matter. It was at this moment when Francis was summoned to deal with some other immediate crisis within the town borders. The knight cursed in the language of Amotoile and told Arthur to keep Alfred in line with venom in his voice.

Ludwig's heart sped when he thought of what this other crisis in town could be. If it was a magical concern, it was undoubtedly Gilbert's doing. He was about to suggest listening in on whatever conversation Francis had been summoned into, but Alfred was already confident in resuming his idea of a rescue.

"It's time to get you out of here," he proclaimed to his fellow.

 _"_ _No,_ Alfred," Arthur pressed.

"And why not?"

"Because, er, because _how?_ _"_

"Well, if you're as clever as me, the solution is pretty simple."

"How simple?" Ludwig asked. "I was bluffing earlier. You should have caught it. I can't work curses. I'm pathetic with spells, and there was no way I could escape on my own. I'm not even feeling strong enough to transform. Did you say you were some sort of changeling hero? I can see the Depth in your eyes."

"Changeling hero, one hundred percent! No probs if you can't transform. I think Arts'll help us out with his cloaking spell."

"Why would I do that?"

"'Cause if you don't, you have to explain to Francis why you let me get away, and I know you're too prideful for that."

"How are you going to get away?"

"By being downright mischievous."

Ludwig scowled. "Just how is mischief going to work?"

Alfred looked snidely at Arthur before holding his hands close together and curling his fingers. His eyes flared with stardust, and his fingertips began to spark and glow a deep blue. With a flash, a dark little sphere swelled between his palms. It flickered and flared like a miniature star. Prominences of magical energy erupted from its surface.

Alfred twitched his fingers. He bit his lip and spread his hands apart. The sphere continued to swell. Its heat and light enveloped the three as it grew. Blue lightning crackled from Alfred's hands. He forced them steady, but the sphere was vibrating, and Alfred was beginning to tremble. He clenched his teeth.

"What is that?" Arthur asked as he shielded his eyes.

"Gonna try shooting at an angle so I don't hit other buildings… " Alfred muttered. His eyes flicked this way and that — from the sphere to the wall to the ceiling and back to his hands, which were straining to control the dark energy he'd conjured. "Can't hold it much longer. It's too strong."

The magician clapped his hands over his ears. "That thing is giving off dark frequencies! Quit it!"

"Work yourself a shield! Quickly!"

Arthur's hands were up in an instant to keep the vicious high frequencies from hammering on his eardrums. Alfred forced a smile as he spread his fingers wide. Then he pushed his hands skyward and let the sphere go free. There was a _pop_ and a _bang_ and a _swoosh_ as a scintillating beam of deep blue light smashed through the brick-and-mortar corner of the corridor and exploded out into the outside world. Thankfully, its energy was focused entirely in the beam, so the changeling's startled companions weren't roasted alive by the sheer dark power.

When the murky cloud of dust settled, Alfred could be seen standing outside the smoking hole in the wall trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue. He turned to the others, and his face stretched into a mischievous grin.

"Ya see, Arts? I _told_ you I could shoot a beam!"

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Published by Syntax-N on Fanfiction . net November 22, 2018.**


	67. The Fault of Maturity

On the outside, he was strong, stoic, and self-reliant. He was the confident and capable one — born to stand tall in the face of all that would oppose him. He was ready to deal with any ridiculous circumstance that might throw itself in his direction with an icy glare and a practiced gritting of the teeth. The curse had strengthened him as much as it had crushed him, and after persevering night after night and year after year, he had proven his own strength to himself. His will was, in lack of a better word, ironclad.

But Ludwig was human. The curse _had_ crushed him. It had destroyed and buried his childhood dream of one day learning the craft of wizards. Ludwig wasn't always the strong and capable man he appeared to be. Sometimes, he had no idea what to do in any circumstance. He had no idea what he was supposed to think or how he was supposed to act or even who he was supposed to be.

This was proving to be one of those times, and he despised it.

"And that wasn't even my full power! Man, I spent hours after school every day trying to shoot that beam without it exploding. Mostly because I was trying to figure out how to blend in with the other students who could barely manifest a magic sphere—"

"Will you just shut up, shadowborn? My head is pounding. The ringing hasn't stopped."

"It'll fade eventually. That's what happened with Feli's friggin' song."

"Well, it's a blazing headache right now. Maybe I'll have passed out by the time Francis kills you, and I won't have to listen to his shameful rebuking again."

"No one's getting killed or rebuked."

"You're an absolute imbecile. Even if you didn't roast anyone with that beam, who's going to pay for the property damage? A shabby hovel of a town hall in Amotoile is far beneath deserving the House of Kirkland's good money. Not that any beneficiaries would see it as an honor."

"Hey, you gotta start believing in yourself. If you're challenging authority in your dreams, you've gotta be able to do it in real life. Your life _isn't_ ruined."

"Oh, I do believe in myself. I'm just afraid that it won't be enough. I'm one man, and there is no one to support me. I can't possibly stand up to a whole guild of scholars and the Council, all of whom serve Her Majesty. Besides, I keep getting mixed up in situations like _this_ one. I _am_ a changeling's accomplice."

"You're not a changeling's accomplice. You're a changeling's best friend. And the _changeling_ is the one who shot the beam, not you. Francy'll just think it's our new friend who shot it to escape, anyway. He did tell Francy he was capable. Didn't you? Hey, what's your name, anyway?"

Ludwig stopped tuning out Arthur's miserable mutterings and turned to face the cheerful changeling. He knit his brows and tried to scrutinize every minute fiber of Alfred's being the way Gilbert could. He tried to _think_ like Gilbert could. But Ludwig wasn't Gilbert, and at the moment, his mind reeled to even fabricate a name.

His consciousness was consumed by the pressure of his mission and the welfare of Gilbert. Another crisis in town… surely Gilbert hadn't done something audacious and gotten himself cornered with a knight pointing a poker at his chest. Surely Gilbert didn't lash out in fear. Surely Gilbert was safe and sane!

His mind flashed to the present. Right now, his task was only to entertain these mercenaries until midnight when Gilbert would surely arrive with Feliciano. Then the fairy would be more than willing to finally find his amulet and live out his psychedelic epilogue — at least until he learned he'd been manipulated for a dark wizard's vengeful fantasies.

"Lu… Luc. I am called Luc," he said. Yes, that name was of Amotoile. A simple name of Amotoile which demanded eight whole seconds to conjure. How Gilbert was able to rechristen himself Wilhelm Bisi von Pfannkuchenland in an instant could only be explained by magic.

Arthur scrunched his furry abominations. "Well, it's simply rude to blame the beam on Luc. What if this causes any more hysteria in the country?"

"More than there already is?" Alfred said with such a conditioned smile it was heartbreaking.

"I've dealt with this before. I should be fine. Really. All I need is time to rest for a night, and I'll be on my way," Ludwig said.

Alfred clapped him on the shoulder. "Just start by eating your sandwich, dude. It took a lot to steal that thing, and that included not eating it myself."

Ludwig looked down at the sandwich in his meager hands. With the awkwardness of his acting, he stuffed it into his mouth the way he'd watched Gilbert do. The bread was terribly unsatisfying. He suddenly found himself longing to enjoy his homemade _Brötchen_ with Gilbert across from him at the table. He pictured the scene in his mind. It was snowing outside Piyo Fortress, and a chorale of winter birds had just arrived to wish him a happy birthday.

It was only a matter of time before he would find himself longing for this tenfold.

"It's even colder out here on the path. How are you not shivering?" Arthur asked.

Ludwig realized he wasn't shivering because he still wore the night cloak under the glamour. It trailed behind him invisible and intangible. He stuttered, "Erm, I'm used to such low temperatures. I've often slept in a shed." It was true. The dog-man kept himself confined outside where Gilbert couldn't accidentally provoke him.

Alfred frowned. "Aw, I gotta help you. You shouldn't have to sleep outside—"

"Quiet!" Arthur interjected. He pointed. On the path and through the trees just ahead was the communal fire pit with the mosaic around the edges. Sitting forlorn and shivering on one of its benches were the Allegrians and Kiku… without Gilbert.

No, if they were there, Gilbert had to be with them. Ludwig scanned the canopy. His brother had transformed into an eagle. That was it. He'd hidden his flute and transformed to spy on Feliciano without alerting him of his presence. Ludwig forced himself to believe that amid the greenery was a fluttering of black feathers.

What he could see worried him even more. Gilbird was perched on Lovino's shoulder, and said fairy was clutching his head and moaning. The little yellow bird cheeped madly before zipping up into the sky and flying in frantic circles. There was the feathery minion, but where was the feathery master? Where was the black eagle?

"What? No way! Why are _they_ here?" Alfred hissed.

"I don't know, but that bird looked like Gilbert's messenger, didn't it?" Arthur whispered.

"Who are they?" Ludwig asked.

Alfred turned to him. "They're some fairies we're trying to save from a dark wizard. Said dark wizard may or may not be very close by. I say we face him, Arts. He's weak."

"Alfred, no. We don't even know why they're here. It could be a trap."

"What can he do to us? All that evil crap he says he's gonna do he can't do unless he has Feli's amulet."

"He's still a dark wizard."

"And I took him out of the sky yesterday."

Arthur was unable to say the obvious. "Just let me try something before we burst in and make a bloody mess," Arthur whispered. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The tips of his pointer fingers flashed emerald, and he lightly tapped his eyelids. When he opened his eyes, they shone brightly in the shadows. "This is just a spell that allows me to see in the arcanachrome — the spectrum of magic. If Gilbert is hiding anywhere around here, I'll see a bright purple spot indicating his high-energy presence."

"Am I purple, too?" Alfred chirped.

"Yes, you're purple, too," Arthur grumbled. He glanced around with his glowing eyes for a little while before stating that nothing looked particularly odd. The two changelings gave off high frequencies, the Allegrians gave off low frequencies, he gave off something in the middle, and while there was one tiny anomaly in the area, he attributed it to the enchanted bird, which couldn't have been Gilbert anyway.

Ludwig took a deep breath in. No foreign presences. So Gilbert wasn't even hiding as an eagle. Gilbert wasn't here. Why were the fairies here when he wasn't? Wasn't Gilbert supposed to bring the fairies with him to the fire pit? Ludwig's mind ached from the discrepancy.

Alfred, unrestrained, went flying into the fire pit area to try and console Feliciano. The Allegrian promptly froze, and his brother next to him clutched his head and whined something about an imp and a yellow bird. Kiku drifted off, no doubt to look for their missing human companion.

Gilbert had promised to meet him here at midnight, Ludwig assured himself. He'd give it until midnight. With a great amount of mental strength, he stoppered his worries the way Gilbert knew how.

* * *

Minutes felt like hours before hours themselves ticked by. Feliciano and Lovino — tied to each other back-to-back with a twinkling emerald veil — still sat frozen and moaning respectively on their bench. Alfred and Arthur continued to argue with each other about leaving the fairies behind versus facing Francis' ire. (Neither one of them was interested in doing either for fear of the consequence.) The changeling sat staring up at the clouds, and the magician shivered despite donning a spell of warmth and comfort. Kiku was undoubtedly still looking for Ludwig, though he would never find him. Still Gilbert didn't come. The world was at an impasse.

In this impasse, there was no telling what time it was. All Ludwig knew was that when the gray sky began to turn lavender, his stoppered bottle of worries began to leak. Clouds had never stopped the curse before. Just as the moon could press its yellow face into the silky curtains of autumn clouds, so could the stars prick through the vapor and rightfully claim their victim. The days were so much shorter, and nightfall came so much sooner.

How to not make a scene? Whether the glamour held or not, the transformation would be too painful to ignore. He'd have to hide within the trees while he changed so the others wouldn't hear him crying out. But how to not draw suspicion? If he came back as the dog-man, he wouldn't be able to wait here for Gilbert.

"For the last time, just go and tell Francis you're sorry and that I'm waiting here with the macaroni brothers."

"He won't accept my apology. Besides, Mattie's gonna be so pissed."

"So it's _now_ that you acknowledge your brother's temper. I say!"

"You say what?"

Ludwig looked at the clouds. If Gilbert didn't show up soon…

And then it happened. Ludwig heard a voice crying out through the air. It was raspy and hollow and frightfully loud. His glamoured ears perked in the direction of the noise. It was certainly Gilbert!

He turned to face the sound, but was met with cruel disappointment. All the other mercenaries approached on the path. Matthew led, and behind him came Yao, a cloaked figure assumed to be Francis, and finally Ivan, who was clutching a screaming, thrashing creature swaddled like an enormous baby. Gilbert's pointed nose poked out of a hole in the blankets, and more holes had been clawed in the folds of fabric.

"Aw, dang, hide me, Arts! They're all here!"

"Hide you? Why should I hide _you?_ You have a chance to take responsibility for once in your life. I took the tirade last time. And that was your fault, too."

"You coulda knocked away the salt so I would have time to escape before the incense made me change."

"You wouldn't have taken the extra time."

"Yes I would've!"

 _"_ _Alfred."_

Death had chosen its evil. The young changeling turned with a wide-eyed, horrified smile to face his fuming brother. Matthew marched right up to him and forcefully shoved Alfred's satchel into his arms with a bullish countenance.

"H-hey, what've you guys been doing all afternoon? Good you could find us."

"We've been watching Francis file incident reports, coming up with lies to protect Francis' loyalties, and building up our tolerance for Francis' griping," Yao grumbled.

"What's wrong with Francis this time?" Arthur asked.

"He's grown a comb and wattle. I think a big plumed tail, too, but he won't show us."

"What a sorry bloke!"

"Yeah, he looked better as an ass," Alfred chirped, peeking under the knight's hood.

Francis shoved him away. "It was a _curse!"_ He crooned. "From _him!"_

In the demon's arms, Gilbert quit his thrashing and wriggled his head and shoulders out of the bundle. His blood-colored eyes were wild and sparkling with malice. Ludwig flinched. In all his years of being the dark wizard's younger brother, even he had never truly seen the dark wizard's face. This gleeful madness, he surmised, was the face of evil.

"Gilbert!" Alfred exclaimed.

"We meet again, Alfred! Face-to-face! And this time I can truly remark upon how much you've grown!"

Matthew stepped forward scowling. "Ivan found him posing as a guard and trying to lead Feliciano out of town. He's been trying to escape and curse us all afternoon. You really don't want to see what Francis looks like under that cloak."

 _"_ _Je suis moche! Il est terrible!"_ Francis cried.

"He is useless. I don't even think he remembers what happened this morning with the explosion and the mini blizzard," said Yao. "But that is no excuse for your absence. Have you two really been here all day?"

"We've been guarding them," Alfred retorted, pointing to the Allegrians. "We thought Gilbert might be hiding around here. We didn't want to leave them alone."

"Well, it's good you stayed! I can see we're all here now! A pity my little brother couldn't be present, but he's now occupied with another errand for me," Gilbert announced. For so frail a creature, his voice was heavy with authority. Gilbert had always been a performer.

Alfred scrunched his nose. "Look, Gilbert, I don't know your history or how Ludwig is your brother or what you're trying to do, but you weren't a villain like this when I was a kid."

"Ha! I was _worse_ when you were a kid! You just didn't know it! Don't you feel honored to have been mentored by such a master of deception?"

"So you really were the dark wizard all along?"

"I've been a dark wizard all my life." He glanced around with a childish smirk. When his eyes met Ludwig's, the red color glittered, and the corners of his lips widened even further.

Ludwig understood. He was the key to Gilbert's victory in this rerouted operation. Gilbert may have been a fool, but he was clever. And now that he was here, it was only a matter of wrenching Feliciano away from these damned mercenaries and setting their eyes on the end of their troubles.

"But you never told me."

"I had that particular summer off. No one likes to talk about work when he's off."

"I _trusted_ you!"

"Trust is a fickle mistress for changelings. But know that I never meant you harm by omitting my life story. It was your story we were concerned with. I didn't need to drag you down with my horrendous past."

"Well, because of that, I thought you of all people had _morals._ But here my own mentor is revealing himself as exactly what I never want to become. Don't you see how this is kinna unsettling?"

"Ach, Alfred, you forget I taught you people are pawns and that if we changelings are to survive in this world, we must do things that others will deem as underhanded."

"To survive, not be bitter assholes."

Gilbert stiffened. When he spoke, his voice was high and sharp. "Do not judge someone because of what you've never experienced. I was nearly _executed_ for trying to befriend a human. I don't hate humans and feed on fear because of my mischievous whims. It is all out of due _justice._ Surely I can entertain your own heart of justice? I would never endorse killing anyone. I am merciful! Down over death! Feathers over funerals! Beaks over burials—"

"No matter how merciful and just you are, you're still _hurting_ someone to get what you want."

"I'm not turning Feliciano into a bird. He's quite adorable already the way he is."

"You screwed with his mind. You put it in his head that he wants to freely give you his inheritance! He's been torn apart fighting with himself over it. And before you argue that we mercenaries did worse, just know that he's only afraid of us because of you beguiling him in the first place."

"There is no dark wizard!" Lovino shrieked from the bench. He looked as if on the verge of fainting again.

Gilbert frowned. "He's not my responsibility. I only beguiled Feliciano. Honest."

"Then you can un-beguile him and figure out a more constructive way to deal with your insecurity. Why don't you try writing a really long-ass book?"

"And how exactly will you make me do that?" The older changeling smirked. The little yellow bird flew down to land on his shoulder. It puffed up its chest and gave its own look of anticipated victory.

Alfred pursed his lips in thought. The other mercenaries stood respectfully in a circle around him. Ludwig hunched just within the trees. The sky was darkening even quicker now. Lavender was giving way to royal blue. He felt his skin begin to prickle.

Then Alfred held his head high. He stared into Gilbert's eyes with a look of heroic confidence unrivaled by the dark wizard's manic arrogance. While Gilbert laced his bony fingers and dared Alfred to drop his foolishness, Alfred simply beckoned Ivan closer.

"It would be a lot more satisfying to see you learn the error of your ways, but I know you're one of those stubborn villains."

"A true villain never doubts his intentions!" Gilbert cackled.

"So instead, we're going to go an easier route. This is gonna hurt you, Gilbert. I'm not feeling very heroic about it."

"Ach, what? You're going to _torture_ me? Have pity! There is no torture that equals the present strain on my mind. My existence is dreaming of archers and waking up feeling the scars on my stomach burn. My normalcy is watching blinded as my beloved brother becomes a beast and loses control over himself."

 _Please don't bring me up,_ Ludwig thought with a frown he reserved for his brother's foolishness. _Still,_ ja, _it crushed you, too. It crushed both of us, so hurry up and give me some sort of signal already._

The prickling was no longer an illusion. The skin of his palms started to burn and toughen. Ludwig clenched a trembling fist and bit down hard on his lip. It was beginning.

"What does that even have to do with Feliciano?" Arthur questioned. But Alfred elbowed him back.

"Or perhaps don't pity me. It would be shameful. After all, I'm a dark wizard, and I've reigned for twenty years. I've cursed people to degenerate to the intelligence of chickens. I've crashed and trashed weddings just to taste the cream frosting of the cakes. By my side, supporting my every wicked deed, is my brother Ludwig." Gilbert's left ear twitched. In a bold risk, his ruby eyes flicked over to the hidden human, and he flashed his teeth. "And just like me, Ludwig is a _monster."_

 _He's buying time so the dog-man can save him,_ Ludwig realized. _Does that mean…?_ It did. Looking down, he saw the glamour — a shimmery transparent bubble — beginning to wrinkle and distort. Holes blossomed in its foamy fabric, causing it to flicker and melt away from his frame. His true features emerged from beneath. His true… _changing_ features. The transformation was destroying the facade.

Even so, Gilbert would never have enough time. With Alfred's command, the demon lowered the hideous fairy down. Faster than could be seen, Gilbert's withered hand shot forward, and the yellow bird launched itself at the hero's face. But Alfred had seen this coming. He'd taken in every detail and calculated every move, and he was still faster than Gilbert. He knocked the pale hand and yellow bird away with his own incredible reflexes.

 _"_ _Trance,"_ Alfred said without a trace of his heroic enthusiasm. Gilbert's red eyes clouded blue. With a disheartened voice, the hero issued his commands:

"Repeat after me. I am going to remove the charm from Feliciano's mind, leaving all his memories intact. When I've finished, I'll realize what I've done, but if I try to beguile him again, my magic will fail."

Gilbert repeated. Alfred snapped his fingers. Ludwig stumbled onto his quivering knees.

He knew the horrendous consequences of the timing. They had just lost Feliciano's loyalty. Gilbert could do nothing but execute Alfred's commands. With the beguiling fresh, he would be completely unable to fight it. If only Ludwig could stop him!

But the stars were beginning to appear behind the clouds, and the hastening transformation rendered him immobile. Fur was sprouting and spreading. Bones were straining and stretching. His whole body trembled, and sweat broke from every changing pore. Cloudy nights couldn't stop the curse, but they could delay its completion. At this rate, it would take twice as long to fully become the beast.

Unable to stop himself, he panicked and cried out in pain.

"Well, look who showed up to watch," Alfred remarked. "Wait, where did Luc go?"

Huffing, Ludwig brought up anguished blue eyes to watch as Arthur released the veil, separating the frozen Feliciano and the unconscious Lovino. Alfred stood the former up, and Gilbert placed his withered hand on his forehead.

 _"_ _The trick is undone, enough with your act, I leave you to be with your memories intact."_

Feliciano melted out of his insensibility. The mercenaries stood around him as if afraid to touch him or catch his gaze. The fairy fluttered his wings. He peered around him, not entirely knowing where he was. His brows furrowed at the peculiar scene displayed before him: a demon picking up a horrified changeling, a hooded figure with orange quills poking out of its hands, two expectant fairies wearing nothing but pajamas, and Ludwig: half man, half beast.

Feliciano scrunched his nose in confusion, but his realized convictions were clear. When he settled his eyes upon Ludwig, his whole form faded and wilted. Lips usually curled in a smile of hope and happiness loosened and quivered. Brilliant golden wings faded of their color and hung lifeless from his back like the very last crinkly leaves of autumn.

"Are you all right, love?" Arthur asked, breaking the silence. "How do you feel? What do you remember?"

Feliciano trembled. His voice caught in his throat. Then his amber-gold eyes bubbled up with tears.

"I… I remember _everything,"_ he stuttered. "I remember trying to fight my own conscience… and I knew something was wrong with my mind and what I believed… I _knew!_ But… I couldn't fight it. All I knew were lies. I kept telling myself lies. I never agreed to give Doggie Grandpa's treasure out of any goodness of my heart.

"Doggie, you never wanted to be my friend, did you? You… you and that man put the spell on my mind. I remember it! I remember you beguiling me! And I remember you lying to me! And I remember the mercenaries trying to fight with me, and I fought with them only because I was loyal to you! But it was a false loyalty the whole time!"

"Feliciano, no!" Ludwig growled. His voice ground the words as it deepened.

"Gilbert _is_ evil! And he's not even your brother! He's an _imp!"_ Feliciano whipped his head to look at the red-eyed changeling, now shrieking and fighting tooth and claw to escape the demon's grasp. A chill wind swirled in circles around the fire pit. "You told me you knew a changeling! So you _work_ with them for _evil,_ do you!? You wanted to steal my inheritance! You… you _made_ me want to give it to you! For _evil!_ "

"No, Feliciano! I only wanted your amulet to undo my curse! I wasn't going to use it for evil! That's only what Gilbert wanted! I wasn't going to let him use it for evil, anyway! I just wanted to break my curse and never have to transform again!"

He sounded pathetic, and he must have looked pathetic as well. Rapidly, his humanness waned. His spine lengthened into a tail. His trembling hands curled as his knuckles bulged and his nails sharpened into claws. His nose and jaw pressed forward with a sound like crunching leaves, and fangs took their places under split, whiskered lips. The one shirt not stolen, the tight one, was history.

Feliciano stood unfrozen yet frozen. He reached out as if overflowing with pity for the accursed one, then retracted the quivering hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"You're a monster," he whispered.

The pain abated. With the transformation complete, Ludwig rose to his full, seven foot height. He wanted to say something, anything, that would convince Feliciano of his good intentions, but something kept his muzzle clamped shut.

Gilbert had indeed realized what he'd done, and he wasn't just hurting as Alfred had said he would. His peculiar condition from earlier had only worsened. Gilbert was absolutely manic with rage.

 _"_ _Get_ him, Luddy! _Get_ him! Use your strength and your teeth and claws! Tear the mercenaries to pieces and _get_ that winged boy! We must get his amulet! We will have everything we ever wanted! You will be free, and I will rule over Volkerburg! You can live in a palace with jewels and a grand kitchen, and I can wear enchanted robes that make me invisible or some crap! _Get_ him, Luddy!"

The dog-man looked sadly to Gilbert. The changeling had broken his claws on the sleeves of the demon's coat. His ruby eyes bulged, and his hollow face was stretched into the horrific, moaning expression of a specter. When he screamed, Ludwig could feel his pain. His musical gift was stirring the emotions of those around him, and his only emotion was despair.

 _"_ _Get_ him! I want that amulet!"

The despair rose in Ludwig. The beast within him fed on it. All this time had been wasted! Now there was no hope of securing that amulet! Gilbert was here, and nothing could be done! If only he could get that fairy and _make_ him fulfill his promise. If only he could get that amulet and wish all the pain away! Gilbert was right! They would be free!

The dog-man reveled in the thought. Freedom and power and forever without the pain of the curse. All he needed was Feliciano to lead him right to the treasure. He shifted his stance and faced the sobbing fairy. The mercenaries tensed.

And then, when he saw Feliciano cowering and sniveling before him, his innocent little face streaked with tears and his body trembling with a despair of its own, he stopped. It was as if he could feel clearly for the first time the weight of reality. Ludwig realized, through the dog-man's rage, that in his heart he was mature, and that maturity was a fault he couldn't argue with. All the tension went out of his muscles, and he hid his gleaming fangs.

"I… am a monster."

"Yes you are! You're just like me! Now _get_ him!"

"Feliciano, I'm sorry. None of this should've happened. I should've realized how wrong this was earlier, and I _did,_ but I was raised by a dark wizard, and not even my own conscience could bring me to truly understand the wrong I've done. I realize all of it now. I hurt you more than the curse has hurt me. I'm going to take full responsibility for my actions. I'll find some way to repay you, and if you wish, you will never see me again."

"What the hell are you _saying,_ Luddy! His pain is _trivial_ in comparison to yours! We will use some other trick! Some other changeling trick! You will have your amulet yet! You will undo the curse and finally be at peace with yourself like you wanted! _Ludwig!_ Obey your big brother _now!"_

"Give me Gilbert," the dog-man said. "I'm sorry he's troubled you. I will take him somewhere where he won't be a bother."

"Bad dog, Ludwig! _Bad dog!_ I want that amulet! I must curse Edelstein!"

"When we get home, I'm going to dig up your cauldrons, wherever you keep them, and I'm going to brew something that makes you finally forget this unhealthy obsession with Edelstein. I think that would be the best for everyone."

Gilbert just raved and raged. A wintry squall swirled about. The last leaves of autumn really did fly from the trees and flutter down to settle in the mud.

Ivan offered the unruly creature forth, but Alfred stopped him.

"You're turning yourself around just like that? I don't buy it."

Ludwig hung his head. "I… don't buy it either. But something is telling me this is the right thing to do. You were right. Feliciano never deserved my friendship."

"Wow, really?"

"He's bluffing, Alfred," Arthur droned. "He'll be back with some bigger and better scheme. If I were you, I wouldn't let Gilbert go where you can't see him."

"I will make sure Gilbert keeps his hands out of other people's business from now on. I'll even make sure he retracts that curse on Francis." Ludwig snarled. "Give him here. I'll take him."

Alfred scrunched his nose. "If ya don't mind me asking, how exactly are you two brothers?"

"I'm a swap-child. Gilbert's raised me since I was a baby. I'm the only human he doesn't hate."

"Huh. He never told me about you. Does that make us cousins?"

Arthur and Matthew each took a turn hitting him.

"If you see me again, it's because I'm apologizing to Feliciano. I want to speak to him personally when I don't have a power-hungry _Schmetterdämon_ to deal with. Believe me when I say I'm finished, and if Gilbert still seeks to use Feliciano, I'll be the one to stop him."

With this, the dog-man took the bundle of Gilbert into his arms and carried him off down the path he had come. He rubbed little circles on the changeling's back until Gilbert was so tired from his crazed despair that his thrashing abated, and he existed only as a miserable heap.

* * *

It was all the way on the other side of town when Ludwig settled down. He sat under the same tree he'd sat beneath the previous night and positioned his brother in his lap, continuing to rub his back the same way Gilbert had once done for him.

He could still feel the despair emanating from his brother's musical crooning. Ludwig shivered, and he realized just how upset he was. He looked down at his enormous paw-hands, then thought he should get used to them, as he would be seeing them every night for many, many years to come.

"I failed," he whispered. "I failed you. I failed us. I wish I could've done what you asked. I just… couldn't."

"Luddy…"

"We may both be monsters, but I'm not like you. I couldn't bring myself to scare him when he was so broken already. I'm just not that kind of person. I don't _want_ to be that kind of person. I don't want to be a monster…"

He trailed off. Gilbert had gone quiet in his lap. Through the tears, the changeling's eyes held a haunted glaze. Clawed fingers squeezed into the muscle of the dog-man's back.

Ludwig looked off into the distance. "You always tease me for how responsible I am, but that's what I am. Responsible. And I have to be responsible for Feliciano calling me a monster because it's my fault."

Gilbert let out one last cry of despair. It was the saddest note Ludwig had ever heard, swollen with longing and unrest. Then, all out of magic wind, the changeling succumbed to his exhaustion without even realizing it. Little rasping snores filled the crisp, indifferent air.

"I'm responsible," Ludwig whispered. "Life is just pushing me further from you, isn't it, Gilbert? And yet I have to be the one to take care of you. _Responsible."_

"You have finally become an adult."

The dog-man snarled. He instantly picked up the scent of the stranger intruding on his time of low spirits. Icy blue eyes narrowed on the green slits flashing in the darkness. The shimmer of an emerald tunic swished just within the trees. Then a body began to emerge. It was broad and toned and fashioned with the bored-looking split lip of a cat.

Heracles the sphinx took no aversion to the monster and sat cross-legged opposite the dog-man. His bushy, taupe-colored tail brushed over Gilbert's pointed nose.

"Just what do you think you're doing here?"

"There is a reason," the sphinx drawled, "and it has to do with you."

"You're just here to taunt me. Do you do this with all swap-children? Randomly appear to taunt them with answers they can never know? Or am I so privileged I deserve your mockery? Why are you here?"

"I am here on behalf of someone else to help you."

"Someone else? And who would that be? The black eagle that attacked me? Is there a conspiracy beyond all this amulet nonsense? I'll have none of it."

Heracles ignored him. "You feel very responsible."

 _"Ja,_ sure," Ludwig growled in a most untrusting way.

"Then you must feel very grown-up, and you agree that it was a very grown-up thing you did accepting your faults and taking responsibility for Feliciano's sorrow."

"In twenty-four hours I've felt more like an adult than I ever have before."

"Good. Then I am permitted to tell you of your family."

Here the dog-man flashed his teeth. "Dogs do not like cats. We like them even less when they don't make sense."

"Then I will not sit near you." Heracles, without changing his bored expression, jumped and alighted in the nearest high tree branch. "You are indeed a special case for me. No, I do not tell all swap-children of their pasts or of the families they never knew. You remember how last time we met, I mentioned how perhaps we would meet again. This is that time."

"Don't play games with me! This shape gives me incredible strength! Most of it is in my jaws alone!"

"You're going to wake your brother."

"And I will not allow you to put shame on me when I'm already drowning in my own."

"I am not putting shame on you. I am magic's messenger. If you want to shame someone, it is the person whose magic sent me. And I would not want to shame him. He is a fairy, and he is dead."

"A dead fairy's magic sent a sphinx to mock me about the family I never met. I, a swap-child who was raised by a mad changeling in rural Volkerburg. That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

"I'm not lying. You only say I'm mocking you because you don't remember the fairy blessing you received when you were a baby."

"Fairy blessing?"

Heracles jumped down to land on his toes before Ludwig again. His tail swished behind him. "I can see it, though you cannot. Your parents asked a fairy to give you a gift the night of your first soirée, and he blessed you with several. The blessing was meant to strengthen as you grew, and when you finally became an adult, in body and in heart, the blessing would fulfill its purpose, and all the gifts the fairy gave you would come to fruition."

"And just what are these gifts supposed to be?"

The sphinx stared intently into Ludwig's eyes. "Many things. A heart of justice, great strength—"

"I'm strong because I made myself strong."

"Handsomeness."

"That obviously didn't work out."

"The blessing healed your scars when you realized you are responsible for Gilbert's welfare. It sensed you were maturing at last."

Ludwig stopped protesting for a moment. His scars _had_ miraculously disappeared. Could the sphinx possibly be telling the truth?

"There was one gift of the blessing which you cannot possess because you did not grow up knowing of your family. That is why I am here. If you know the story of your origin, you can have that gift, and I think you will know a little more about who you are supposed to be. I appeared to you the first time because I sensed you were asking these questions about yourself. I knew you were beginning to rise into the maturity the blessing requires."

"Well, fine. I'm an adult. I'm _responsible."_

"So you would like to know about where you come from."

 _"_ _Ja,_ fine, but I won't believe you until I have proof of this fairy blessing really existing."

"Then take my hands, and you will see what I can see. I will show you the vision of your family."

"I will rip you to shreds if this is a trick."

"But you would not feel good about it," Heracles said in his sing-songy voice.

Ludwig was hesitant. Was this a trick or the truth? Would he really see the family he never knew? He looked down at Gilbert. Gilbert and he were a family. They were a loving, happy, mismatched family. But Ludwig was human, and despite the importance of giving Gilbert the family he never had, another family hadn't gotten to know Ludwig as Gilbert knew him. Perhaps they were missing him, or perhaps they still cared for the one who had taken his place. With budding curiosity, he reached his great hands forward and squeezed them around the sphinx's.

And then it was snowing.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Ahhh, this scene has been in my head for such a long time! Everything is falling apart, and poor Gilbert is not handling it well. What will the vision reveal about Ludwig's family? You'll just have to wait. ;)**

 **Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . net November 28th, 2018. Reposters will be cursed.**


	68. Schloss Liutberht

All around, snow was falling in delicate, sparkling tufts. It dotted the chilly night air and gathered on the ground like a fluffy blanket. Ludwig shivered as it collected and melted on the back of his neck.

He was human here, he realized, and _here_ was not where he had been moments before. It was the strangest feeling — awake yet dreaming, sitting miserable in Amotoile yet standing here in this still, silent night. The scenery seemed to be real. He could see the stonework of a stately yet shabby castle, though the snow blotted out the towers above. Friendly lamplight from an approaching party flashed in the darkness.

"Are we… really here?"

"It is a vision," Heracles said, his voice barely audible. The sphinx stood next to him. His cat-like eyes glowed in the darkness.

"A vision of where?"

"Schloss Liutberht, the sixteenth of December, twenty years ago."

"The sixteenth… a day before my birthday?"

"You wanted to see the blessing. It happens to fall on the night you were taken."

"And this place, Liutberht…"

"This is the place you were born. Your true birthday is the third of October."

"So I really am twenty already. It's such a… _definitive_ number."

Grumblings echoed through the stillness. The sphinx urged Ludwig forward. They walked along a walled stone ramp leading to the front steps of two great arched doors. One of them swung open suddenly, sending a wave of light and music out into the solemn winter. The snow swirled around from the disturbance.

It had been opened from the inside by a boyish steward in a tight coat and tie. He gestured to a rather uptight-looking family who stepped over the threshold and into the foyer. They were the source of the grumblings, and they wasted no time crowding the place with their coats and mittens and cases of various sizes.

The wife raised her nose in the air and eyed her husband critically. "You behave yourself tonight. This is not a business affair."

"Of course it isn't business. I am offering my benefits as always."

"You should not be offering anything. We are congratulating my sister and putting away our fears for one night."

"I will be having a conversation with your sister—"

"You will do no such thing! She is tired and anxious enough as it is without your sniveling ambition ruining her soirée. This night is meant to ease her and celebrate her child. This is a night to pay attention to your own children."

"Gertrude—"

"Enough!"

The arguing couple were among the ugliest people Ludwig had ever seen — not by their features, (though Gertrude had an unusually large, pointed nose,) but by their countenance. They wore frowns so tight the skin must have stretched to keep them that way, and their eyes seemed to be bulging with criticism at everything they gazed upon.

The husband sniffed and adjusted his monocle as if he found the very thought of children distasteful, but beneath he and his wife were three — all dark-haired and stiff-postured like their parents. The youngest, a boy just coming into his own pointed nose, continued to sniffle and shiver from the cold.

"Not even a proper reception of guests," the husband remarked. "I could've found Anna a better husband. Money isn't always the answer."

His wife scoffed. "Don't try acting wise. Money is always the answer in your mind. You just don't like Wolfgang's long hair."

"It is completely undignified for his generation."

They stood for quite some time, expecting a grand reception and taking nothing else, but even when the master of the castle came to greet them with a sober smile and a formal yet welcoming civility, they could only look as if they had been held too long in waiting.

Ludwig couldn't help but stare. The master of the castle was dressed in the decorated coat and silken ascot of someone very well-off. With sharp blue eyes, he commanded even the air of the room to behave. His stature came above the husband, who shook his hand stiffly and looked as if he were going to wash his gloves afterwards.

"I-is that…" Ludwig stuttered.

"Your father, Wolfgang Beilschmidt von Liutberht."

"My father is the master of the castle? My family is rich!"

"Yes. Take it in."

"And those people, I'm not related to them, am I?"

"Unfortunately yes. They are your aunt, uncle, and cousins on your mother's side."

"Even with their sourness, I have human _cousins._ I have a father. I have my father's eyes. This must be true..."

"Why is it snowing already?" His uncle spat as if he had a say in the matter.

"Never mind the snow," said his father in a deep voice that proved even further their relation. "You're among the last to arrive. Painfully late as always."

His uncle muttered something under his breath about the pain of waiting for children to prepare for such a long journey and then not even being welcomed. It was all soon set aside. Wolfgang was not one for petty complaints spoiling the atmosphere, so with an air of aloofness, he directed his in-laws from the foyer up a flight of stairs and down a few corridors to the ballroom.

The guests of the future followed, one of whom was increasingly intrigued by everything he saw. Oil paintings! Carpeted floors! Sitting rooms with fireplaces! Indoor plumbing! His family was in possession of all these things, and influence ran in his blood!

Ludwig couldn't help letting his jaw drop when he entered the ballroom after his cousins. The place was simply enormous. Priceless curtains swept over the many windows on either side of its length. The ceilings were sculpted and varnished with geometric designs. The floor was tiled and decorated with fabulous blue rugs. Above all were golden chandeliers holding dozens of candles. All Gilbert had seen of Gutshaus Edelweiss surely couldn't compare to the opulence of the castle.

Swaying and spinning to an enchanting waltz were men and women of prestige and power. Gowns flowed, coats fluttered, corsets squeezed, and waistcoats trimmed. All turned to address Wolfgang Beilschmidt when he entered. Some even found it appropriate to bow to his graceful command of the festivities. He gave a modest smile, not even needing to show his teeth for reception of their respect.

A young woman stepped forward to meet him. She bore a striking resemblance to Gertrude, yet with a looser concern for her appearance was prettier than her stiff-postured sister. A tired smile teased at her lips, and her eyes sparkled with the felicity of the night. In her arms, she cradled a baby in a white gown. He was fast asleep despite the music and the laughter.

"This is a dream. You can stop teasing me now. I no longer believe it. That can't be _me_ in her arms. I'm not supposed to live in a castle. Just look at those cakes they're eating! I'm a humble man. I eat potato soup and sleep in a shed. Cakes like those are _treats—_ "

"If it will ease you, I will tell you that it is not _you_ in your mother's arms. It is your changeling. You had been swapped earlier in the day."

 _"_ _Mein Täuschlein,"_ Ludwig breathed.

He watched as his mother came forward with the sleeping babe and offered him to Gertrude to hold. The stiff woman softened at such goodness, and her children eagerly leaned in to see their new cousin for the first time. Ludwig's uncle used his wife's distraction as a means to grab Wolfgang by the arm and direct him to a place they could speak away from listening ears.

"It's a shame you couldn't arrive earlier," his mother was saying. "We introduced him and gave a toast. But now that you're here, you can say hello to little Hermann Otto."

Ludwig scrunched his nose. "Did she just…"

"Your true name," Heracles affirmed. "Hermann Otto Beilschmidt von Liutberht."

"Even my name is pretentious? No, this can't be true."

"Yet you continue to watch."

Ludwig scanned the scene. Whether it was real or not, all these people had come to celebrate him. They were dancing and drinking and laughing in his honor. The music of the evening swirled and twirled with the dancers. There seemed to be a host of violins and cellos at the far end of the room playing with such perfect time and pitch that every step was in unison.

He peered into the fray of dancers. Someone was singing with the string-players, and the voice was so familiar it was uncanny. His eyes widened when they met the gaze of a decorated winged fairy standing on a podium at the far end of the room. He sang out clear and pure, and with each note he sang, the floating, musician-less instruments played on with him.

"Why is Feliciano here?"

Heracles shook his head. "That is Feliciano's father, Gianfranco. Feliciano was not even born yet."

Ludwig looked again. The singer's voice was enchanting. It held with it that same unearthly power that Feliciano used to lift the spirits of those around him. But of course this couldn't be Feliciano. Gigi may have borne a striking resemblance to his son, but his jeweled wings were a glittery bronze, and he was certainly a few years older than Feliciano in the present.

"Why is he here at this party?"

"He happened to be your young cousin's music tutor. Ah, look now."

Gigi had finished his song. The whole room burst into applause, and the air itself seemed to dim and hollow without the magical voice to fill it. The Allegrian offered his words of gratitude before his face lit up at the sight of Gertrude's youngest. The meager boy still clutched one case close, and though he had been smiling intently down at the changeling, now his eyes were downcast in shyness.

"Go play a song for Otto, dear," his mother pressed.

The boy nodded. Taking his mother's criticism to "be dignified," he hiked up his socks and marched through the crowd with his head held high. He then bowed to Gigi and took his seat at the harpsichord. Timidly he shifted before taking some sheets of music from his case and positioning them on the stand.

All notions of shyness were squashed when he began to play. His thin, nimble fingers flew over the keys. They ran up and down multiple scales in a hurried allegro, never missing a note and never skipping a beat. Little flourishes played out above the quick and graceful melody. Chords progressed in intensity until they burst into descending chromatics played without error and with perfect poise.

"He's a natural," Ludwig mused.

"A near prodigy by his adolescence, though some blamed the fairy's influence for his talents. Even today, he plays six instruments: harpsichord, pianoforte, organ, violin, cello, and clarinet. His weak heart was capable of fostering at least one passion."

"He grew up to be a snob like his parents, then?"

"I suppose that would be your own opinion. You would have to meet him, though if I tell you his name, you may find your hope for a happy reunion spoiled."

"Why? What is his name?"

"Roderich Edelstein."

The twanging of the harpsichord faded into the distance. Ludwig's hopeful smile slipped. "A castle, Feliciano's father, Edelstein… you really are mocking me, aren't you?"

"You share your strong chin with him."

"No, if Roderich is my cousin, that would make _Ulrich_ Edelstein my uncle, and he's the man who tried to execute Gilbert. Even if I were related to them, I would deny it. The Edelsteins are murderers."

"Hm."

Gigi was the first to rise in applause when the boy finished playing. He beckoned to his student, and when the timid player stood next to him and tried the best he could to hold his spine stiff and his head high, the fairy addressed the audience:

"Another round of applause for Roderich, please! He's been working so hard!"

"Roderich," Heracles said.

"No, he said some other name. I won't believe he said Roderich with that accent."

"Then come with me, and I will give you further proof that he and his sour family are the Edelsteins."

Ludwig tried to protest, but the scenery shifted and distorted, and now they were in a sitting room of the castle standing just behind where an impatient-looking Wolfgang sat in a chair in front of a glowing fireplace. Ludwig's uncle stood in front of the flames. He held the poker in one hand and stirred the cinders with a zealous fascination.

"My firstborn son is out there," Wolfgang remarked. "I hardly think this is the time, Ulrich."

"My wife is out there as well enjoying the company of her sister. Why shouldn't we men have our own conversation in our own time?"

"What is there to speak of?" Wolfgang asked. He kept his eyes trained on the other's head and shifted slightly in his seat.

"I would like to interest you in an investment opportunity."

"On the night of my son's welcoming party."

"You'll find it's quite fitting," Ulrich hissed. He stabbed the poker into a log, and sparks burst from the burning wood. "You see, I have been working on a project of utmost secrecy with none but my closest associates, and you, Liutberht, will be the first to see the product."

Here Wolfgang leaned forward and laced his fingers. His expression conveyed interest while keeping just enough aloofness to stay stubborn. "What is it?"

Ulrich grinned with crooked teeth. He reached into his coat pocket and removed a little vial filled with a black, tar-like gum. _"This,"_ he said, "is what I call _Enthüllung._ It is an incense that when burned, severely weakens dark magic. It is a weapon and a blessing in our war against the darkness."

"You've always been a zealot for the occult, and don't you think for one second I'm going to join you."

"I apologize. Should I have spoken plainer? This incense practically _nullifies_ the powers of dark creatures. I have tested it on them. Imps that have disguised themselves as humans develop an instant sickness and revert to their original forms. Do you realize the potential?

"An incense that makes transformed creatures un-transform." Wolfgang leaned in and narrowed his gaze. "What is it made of?"

"That's just the thing! It's nothing but diluted industrial effluent with a few aromatic embellishments. Completely harmless to humans!"

"And this is your great weapon."

"This is going to change the world. No longer will we struggle to identify the creatures of shadow. We just make them reveal themselves! Really, Wolfgang, you are a father now. Surely you can see the necessity with a child of your own. Why, it will be no trouble for _me_ the next time an _imp_ tries to make my youngest child any more useless."

Ludwig shivered. "I… I've heard enough," he told the sphinx.

"A despicable man, Ulrich Edelstein," Heracles agreed. "But this is not his story; it is yours. And now is the time to tell you the Wolfgang you see in that chair is not your father. He, too, is a changeling — the changeling Frederick."

Ludwig peered closer. He had recognized the strange behavior of averting the eyes and disguising the countenance, but this changeling had done it so smoothly and expertly that it had fooled even a swap-child. "Frederick… you don't mean the dark wizard Fritz?"

"Fritz knew Ulrich was developing a weapon. It was only a matter of discovering what it was and whom he was willing to share it with. Although Ulrich was never fond of Wolfgang Beilschmidt, the two of them had collaborated many times in the past when dealing with creatures of darkness, and with your birth, Ulrich thought him vulnerable and willing to invest. _"_

"I thought Ulrich was a benefactor."

"Benefactors must first be businessmen. Ulrich Edelstein dealt in death."

Ludwig's stomach churned even in this unreal world. "Tell me my father never accepted the offer."

"He did not. After all, it is Fritz listening to Ulrich's proposal. At this moment, the real Wolfgang is deep under the castle glamoured to appear as a sack of potatoes."

"Then… is Fritz the one who swapped me?"

"Indeed. The changeling in your place was one he came across a week prior. Fritz, thinking his mission of discovering the weapon would take time, thought it would be safe to allow the child time as a human baby. In the event the child was at risk of being discovered, Fritz would reveal himself as a decoy to distract the family. Even now, as he sits in the chair, his pockets are stuffed with potions in case of emergency."

"All of this because he wanted to save other changelings. Fritz was a hero."

"He was. But enough about him in the moment. We've forgotten what we came here for. You wanted to see the blessing."

"Er, yes, the blessing…" Ludwig said. He wasn't sure whether seeing himself blessed could make him forget what else he'd seen, but he allowed the scene to shift back to the ballroom again. Ulrich was bickering with Gertrude off in the corner, Wolfgang was sitting on a bench with his wife, and Roderich was in possession of the baby. The little Otto was awake and wiggling now. Roderich beamed down at him.

Gigi approached the whole happy family clapping his hands and gesticulating with wild excitement. "Eh, Signor and Signora Bella-shmeet, congratulations again! Otto is so adorable! He just makes me so homesick because I'm thinking about how Tina and I are expecting our second little _bambino_ in March. This is such an exciting time for all of us! I know I'll be coming back and forth from Allegria just to visit! I'll even begin tutoring Otto in music as soon as possible if you want! Then, when our new baby comes, we can organize little play dates, and they'll become friends!"

"He's… rambling about Feliciano and I becoming… _friends,"_ Ludwig stuttered. The stomachache worsened. What a twisted thought.

Anna Beilschmidt's face lit up. "Gigi, we were wondering if you wanted to give Otto a gift. A fairy blessing, perhaps?"

At this, her husband pursed his lips in thought, but ultimately kept quiet.

"I know it's a dated practice, but you are a fairy, and Otto is a child of noble birth."

"He's — I'm a _what!?"_

Gigi agreed instantly. "I've never given a blessing before, but sure! Let me see him!" He took the baby from Roderich and squeezed himself between the parents, his wings twitching with excitement. "Hmm, I suppose… I'll make a wish for him! _Sì_ , a fairy wish made out of love and magic."

The guests all approved with their smiles and "Awws."

The fairy clutched the child close and playfully pinched his nose, per the ritual. Then he sang with a voice that was like Feliciano's, but so much richer and sweeter, "I wish that Otto, the son of Wolfgang and Anna, will always know he is loved by someone. I wish that he will grow up to be strong, but with a heart full of kindness and justice. I wish that he will never be afraid to speak his mind, and that he will have the courage to face his fears."

"And be handsome?" Wolfgang joked.

"Yes, of course! I wish that when he grows up, he will become a handsome duke just like his papà."

"A _what!?"_ Ludwig erupted. It was unbelievable, but how could Heracles lie? Everything was so detailed, and the pieces more or less fit together in their own way and logic. Sure, he could believe he was born well-off. But _highborn?_ The firstborn son of a _duke?_ No, it wasn't possible. It simply wasn't.

"Are you that surprised?" Asked the sphinx.

"It's not true. Besides, he blessed the changeling, not me."

"He blessed Otto, the son of Wolfgang and Anna. The changeling is not him. _You_ are."

"But I'm _not_ Otto. I'm Ludwig, son of no one. I never knew my parents. Sometimes, I even believe the fabrications about them being poor farmers."

"You know your parents now, and so you can call yourself Otto."

"A dark wizard's pet monster can't be a duke's firstborn son! Just let me forget this nonsense! I've seen your 'blessing.' That's all you wanted to show me, anyway."

Heracles shifted on his cat-like toes. He eyed the grandfather clock ticking away at the far end of the hall. "No," he said. "There is more to see if you are to truly believe the vision. I must show you the whole night. Then you will understand."

"Ach, what else is there in this dream-world?"

"More," the sphinx said gravely.

And then, before Ludwig's eyes, the scene quickened. Gigi stood on his podium and sang while the instruments floated and played themselves. The dancers took new partners and twirled, faster and faster and faster. Bottles of wine and kegs of beer emptied of their contents. Cakes were eaten and shoes were lost in the madness of the dance. Anna retired, leaving Wolfgang with the care of her child. Wolfgang left the child with Roderich and stalked Ulrich in circles around the room. Colors flashed, and the night wasted away.

Then the quickening ceased. Everything slowed, and the dimly-lit ballroom came to a stop. Many of the dancers still sat together or moved in slow meter with the tones of a lone cello player, but it was clearly midnight, and most of the guests had retired to their rooms. Now, Wolfgang was playing cards with a drunken Ulrich and Gertrude while they continued to bicker over investments and business affairs. None of their children were left in the room, and neither was Gigi.

"Ludwig," Heracles said very seriously, "do not let go of my hands."

"Why?"

"Whatever you do, don't. These visions I am showing you are true. They are what I really see of your past. And for you to know where you come from and why you were taken from this place, you must see what you are about to see."

Then, a secondary vision played in front of Ludwig. He could see it as Heracles narrated the scene for him.

"It was midnight in Schloss Liutberht, and most of the guests were asleep. Your cousin Roderich had forgotten a book in his family's carriage. He swaddled the changeling all up in blankets and took him outside for a walk in some fresh air. Deep beneath the castle, in the wine cellar, was Gianfranco Roma.

"Gigi had been agreeable the whole evening, but he was upset that the soirée had no Allegrian wine. He crept down to the cellar in hopes of finding some. There was no wine, he found, but there was something else in the cellar that caught his attention the moment he tripped over it.

"Gigi disturbed the sack of potatoes, and the weak glamour on Wolfgang dissipated. It was hardly difficult for a wary Allegrian to put the clues together. This Wolfgang was in his union suit. His hair was in shambles. He was unshaven. And on his right hand was a ring composed entirely of iron. The Wolfgang of the ballroom wore no such ring. So began the climax of the night."

Ludwig watched as Gigi wrenched the iron ring off the sleeping Wolfgang's hand and clutched it tightly. Then he scrambled up flights of stairs and down corridors until he finally came to the receiving room. With trembling wings and wide, terrified eyes, he threw himself into the room and cried out as loud as he could, _"Changeling!_ Changeling here in the castle!"

Wolfgang, who was really Fritz, stood and turned. His expression was blank, though the guests around him began to mutter worried phrases and shift on their feet.

"Why are you disturbing the night, Gianfranco? Most of our guests are asleep, and the ones still awake are trying to enjoy themselves."

Gigi's trembling worsened. He backed up when faced with Wolfgang's piercing blue eyes. Slowly, he held up the ring for the crowds to see and pointed at the duke, who was without any iron adornments whatsoever.

"Do not play games. I'm not wearing my ring tonight because this is a time of celebration untouched by our fears or pride. Put it back where you found it, and don't be snooping around in my chamber."

"I _saw_ him!" Gigi burst out. "The real Wolfgang is in the cellar! Th-this creature is not the real Duke of Liutberht! He's a shapeshifter, and… and he's after the baby!"

With this outburst, the guests cringed. They backed away from Wolfgang until a large, loose circle was formed around him. Ulrich, in his drunkenness, ripped the vial of _Enthüllung_ from his pocket and brandished it around for the whole room to see.

"I'll expose him!" He proclaimed. "Someone bring me a candle!"

"You are drunk, Edelstein. Sit down and forget your madness. I am certainly not a changeling, and I am not after anyone's baby. Otto is my son—"

Gigi pulled a pair of scissors out of a pouch on his belt. With the same courage Ludwig had seen Feliciano summon to call him a monster, the fairy lifted his wings and flew toward the duke. He screamed as he descended upon him, thrusting the handles of the scissors forward in hopes of tapping the blades somewhere along the skin.

"No, you'll startle him," Ludwig whispered.

But Gigi couldn't hear him, and it was too late. With inhuman quickness, Wolfgang seized the scissors, pulled Gigi down by his ruddy bangs, and wedged the blades into the muscle between the fairy's chest and shoulder. The duke's eyes held a wild, spooked blankness. He was breathless from the suddenness of the attack, and only after forcing himself to be calm did he see his gloveless hand was glowing bright red where he had clutched the scissors. The smoldering burn matched the spreading stain on Gigi's shirt.

 _"_ _Mein Gott!"_

"They've taken the duke! They've taken Wolfgang!"

"Where's the baby!?"

"He stabbed the musician!"

"Get that creature before it takes us all!"

"Save the children!"

Hysteria was immediate. Frantic guests either threw themselves to the wall and hunched into shivering balls of fear, or they took anything they could and threw it at the impostor. Ulrich Edelstein continued to brandish his vial and bark for someone to bring him a candle. Gertrude took a cake platter and ran up to smash it over Wolfgang's head. He twisted and elbowed her down to fall on top of Gigi, who was crooning and tenderly touching around the wound.

"Bar the door!" Ulrich commanded. "Get me a candle and bar the door! If it's in its true form, it will be weaker and easier to capture."

"Where are our children!? Johannes? Clara? Roderich? Where's my Roddy!?"

"Gertrude, I swear if that boy has attracted _them_ again—"

"He does not _attract_ them!"

"And don't get me started on how he is thirteen and still comes to us in the middle of the night crying that some dead imp is cursing him! Next chance I get, I'm sending him to a proper boarding school for boys his age, and they can deal with his _issues!_ Ach, bar the damn door and pull the scissors out of that Allegrian before someone steps on him."

Wolfgang had made it to the door, but was cut off by those who weren't frightened enough to not hear Ulrich's commands. Several men threw themselves over him and pulled him to the ground. He practically growled as he used his current shape's strength to push himself up. From his pocket, he pulled a potion bottle that he smashed on the floor. A thick blue haze clouded the air. The guests began to cough and wheeze. A few bodies dropped asleep in the fog.

The changeling cursed to himself in a language Ludwig took to be Faelic while attempting to wrench the brave guests away from the door handles. They had nearly let go. "Stop holding your breath," he cursed before he shoved them aside and finally pulled the doors free.

But Wolfgang wasn't free to escape the ballroom. Ulrich threw himself around the changeling's middle and jerked him back. He stumbled, collapsing onto his side, and as the two of them wrestled in the sleep-inducing haze, the crunching of glass came from Wolfgang's pockets. Green mist puffed into noxious clouds. Orange goo snaked along the tiles and the rugs. Purple orbs exploded upon contact with the air. Pink fog joined the blue.

The potions mixed and amalgamated together to form a single whitish mist that hovered like shadowy dust in the room. Those who were immune to the sleeping potion breathed it in and screamed. The curse of the mist spread like a nasty sore. From the inside out, flesh dried and drained of its color, turning gray and smooth. Whole bodies seized and hardened with a sound like chipping, grinding stones. Limbs locked, movement ceased, and all feeling was gone. The guests, once elegant and smiling, now froze into screaming statues as if chiseled by a mad artist.

Wolfgang, seeing the fortuitous effects of the magical cocktail, leapt up and flung himself out the door before he himself could be affected. Ulrich had been able to burn and tear his skin nearly everywhere. Straining to hold his breath, he dashed down the stairs and out the arched doors into the night while the malefic fumes seeped into every room on every floor of the castle.

The last thing Ludwig saw before the scene shifted again was Gianfranco Roma lying on the floor, his body all transmuted except for his head and the tips of his fingers. He couldn't draw breath into his petrified lungs, and he gasped as he strained his right arm to reach something he'd lost when Wolfgang grabbed him. It was a sharp object glinting gold in the darkness. Gigi's eyes were full of tears. His body had become too heavy. He couldn't feel his fingers, yet still he yearned for something just out of reach. Something he would never touch again.

* * *

The candles had gone out, and the ballroom was dark and dead, save for the patches of moonlight trickling in through the slits between curtains.

"What happened?" Ludwig asked to no one and nothing.

"You let go of my hands. I told you not to. We are back in the castle now. Please don't let go again."

"That was a nightmare. Those people! They all…"

"Turned to stone."

"But, but that doesn't mean they're… dead… does it? Just cursed."

Heracles looked at him with an expression not of bored, catlike indifference, but rather deepest condolence.

"So everyone in the castle… died? Even my parents?"

"I'm sorry. But you must see it to the end."

Ludwig could only stand in total shock, not feeling anything. Then he caught the sound of sniffling. He looked to see the statues of Ulrich and Gertrude, who had been able to find one another before the curse took their life and breath. The husband squeezed his arms around his wife with the expression of a defeated warrior who hadn't given up fighting, and she could only stare at her petrified hand in absolute horror — screaming yet silent. Beneath them was a small, trembling heap — Roderich. Having been outside when the cocktail was strong, he was the only one still composed of flesh and bone.

"Mama…" he whined.

The changeling baby began to wail in his arms.

"N-no, Otto. Don't cry. It's all right. This is just another nightmare, like the ones with G... Gi… _him._ Don't cry. That's undignified. Don't… cry."

Roderich wept.

* * *

It was snowing again. Heracles had brought Ludwig back out into the cold night. Tiny crystals of ice still floated down to softly kiss the earth as if the Duke of Liutberht and his entire house hadn't just been turned to stone.

"It is almost over," Heracles said. "The worst has passed. Look there. Fritz survived."

Ludwig looked to see Wolfgang's clothes piled in a drift. Within them was an emaciated corpse of a man with tangled silvery hair that reached down his back. He pushed himself up, trembling in the cold, and pressed his shriveled, blackened hand into the snow.

"Ulrich Edelstein is dead, Wolfgang Beilschmidt is dead, and now I will die," Fritz murmured. "I accept it. I've done my part to be woven into history's secret tapestry, and my thread has finally been snipped. Adieu, then."

He flopped down into the snow, all four limbs outstretched, and relaxed, waiting with inner peace to be taken.

A baby crooned in the darkness.

Fritz lifted his head. His long, wrinkled ears twitched irritably. "Damned fairy charm," he muttered. With strength he didn't have, he forced every muscle to bring him to his feet. Then he stumbled over to a hollow in which a blue-eyed human baby lay swaddled in a discarded robe. A bit of snow had fallen down to melt over his forehead, breaking the spell.

"That is you," Heracles said with a budding smile.

Ludwig sighed. "I can believe it. The other baby wasn't brutish enough."

The tender moment ended when Fritz bared his pointed teeth. "Like I'd help you," he snapped at the baby. "There is nothing I can do. My body is exhausted beyond repair. I'm dying right now, and you might as well accept the same fate. I know you were the one predestined by that Allegrian and not the one I swapped you with. If there's anything this world doesn't need, it's another bitter human _duke_."

He flopped down in the snow again. By this time, the real baby Otto had begun to cry. Fritz clenched his teeth. "Die, Fritz. Just leave this miserable world already. There is nothing left for you! And there is nothing left for _you_ either! Your family is statues! You were swapped with a changeling! No one will hear your sniveling! You're dead to the world already, as far as I'm concerned!"

The baby only continued to cry. His sad mewling rang out into the night. He was helpless, not even knowing why he was out in the snow. Innocent and ignorant of destruction and corruption and anger and death.

Fritz lifted his head. He eyed the hollow with a defeated look. Then he forced himself up, and trembling, took the child in his arms. The weight made him stumble, but he took a few deep breaths and steadied his balance.

"I can't let you die. You're just like all the others," he sighed. Then he began to stagger along, his exhausted body protesting in every place imaginable.

"He carried you for three hours through the biting cold all the way from Schloss Liutberht to Piyo Fortress."

"Three hours? It isn't that far, then."

"Turn around, Ludwig."

He turned, and his heart nearly stopped.

Rising into the dark sky were the same black towers he'd been cursed under.

"N-no, it isn't. It can't be. Schloss Liutberht is _his_ castle?"

"That's your phrase tonight, isn't it? With no evidence to blame anyone for the incident and no survivors to testify, the general notion was that Schloss Liutberht was cursed. No one dared set foot within its environs for years, and they wanted to even less once Basch made it his hideout."

"But… Basch… he _stole_ it!"

"Calm yourself. There is one thing left to see."

"I was cursed under the castle I was _born_ in!"

The scenery shifted, but it couldn't stop the tears from running down Ludwig's cheeks. They only flowed more freely when he saw the warm familiarity of Piyo Fortress stretching into the sky. How he ached to return there now! It was all a nightmare! The wand, Feliciano, the mercenaries, Gilbert's madness, this vision… all just a terribly long nightmare. It was nearly morning. He would wake up human in the shed, collect eggs from the coop, and smile when the buttery aroma of his pancakes attracted a sleepy changeling from upstairs.

But Ludwig's happy fantasy was extinguished. He heard a pained, heavy snuffling, and Fritz, now appearing as nothing but a creaking collection of bones, stumbled out of the trees. Ludwig watched, absolutely heartbroken, as the old changeling staggered up to the tower. Fritz knelt down and planted a shaky kiss on the babe's forehead before placing him at the foot of the door.

"T-take care of Gilbert for me," he wheezed.

Fritz struggled to bring himself to his feet one last time. He cracked a humble smile up at the second story window just under which Gilbert slept. The old changeling spread his arms wide, then closed his eyes and fell backwards to land in the snow. Then his magic tore him apart, and he melted into the shadows.

* * *

It was nighttime in Amotoile, and Ludwig was the dog-man. He sat under a tree and cradled a sleeping Gilbert in his lap. Across from him sat Heracles.

"Fritz wasn't murdered. He died saving my life," Ludwig wept. "He wanted me to take care of Gilbert."

"And you've done just that without even knowing of his request. Maybe Gilbert has led you astray, but you've kept him from leading himself down the worst paths. Fritz had a reason for exhausting himself beyond the brink of death. Even in his last moments, he saw a life with potential. He saw _your_ potential."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better about myself? I feel _horrible!_ Fritz _died_ saving my life, and all those people are gone!"

"But because Fritz saved you, _you_ are alive to this day. And you," Heracles said, pulling something out of the pocket of Gilbert's blue coat, "are the rightful Duke of Liutberht."

It was the ring with the cross engraving. Ludwig shoved the sphinx's hand away.

"Get that out of here. It scares Gilbert."

"You don't recognize it? This cross is the ancient mark of Liutberht, and this is the same ring Gigi took from Wolfgang's finger. When Wolfgang died, it was passed to your changeling, as his childhood was spent at Edelweiss with his cousin Roderich."

"That boy Feliciano met who looked like me was him, then. Did he live somewhere else after Edelweiss? If not in Liutberht, then a different castle?"

"He only experienced his childhood in Edelweiss. He was then executed. Roderich used his father's invention to expose him. It was this execution which made Gilbert so upset he cursed Roderich's hand."

Ludwig was aghast at this information. It was the question he had wondered about above all else: Was his own changeling alive and well? The answer was more or less expected, but the real truth was more shocking than he'd ever imagined: he would never meet his _Täuschlein,_ his counterpart. His family, or what he had left of one, had been the bitter kind. This was simply the last straw. Ludwig felt as if an icy dagger were twisting into his chest. It was all a nightmare. He would wake up soon. If only he concentrated hard enough...

"Would you like to see him as well?"

"No, _Gott,_ no! To think I had such a happy childhood, and yet the other one who wore my face had to live in such fear! The most evil creature in Volkerburg was the kindest, and the most influential was the bitterest and the cruelest!"

"Then you bear no sympathy for Roderich Edelstein?"

"Roderich may have lived in fear himself, but to have executed his only living relative... It's _heartless!_ "

Heracles held the ring forth in his palm again. "After the execution, the ring was passed to Roderich, and he took the name Duke of Edelweiss. But with a living heir to Liutberht, he has no right to that title. The ring is yours alone, and Gigi's wish was for you to become a duke as your father was. You now have the knowledge to take your rightful place."

"No, I… I can't. I'll never be a duke! That's not who I am! I don't want to be a monster! I've been cursed enough, and I won't be cursed again, for Gilbert's sake!"

The sphinx shrugged. "I am only the messenger of Fate. You can tell your brother she's quite real, and she won't be tested when wishes are involved. Goodnight, Your Grace." This was the last sentiment of the sphinx before he sprang into the darkness.

Ludwig grabbed the ring and threw it away into the shadows. He looked down at his sleeping brother and fought with all his strength the urge to bark and howl and tear some wild creature to bits.

 _„Gaaanz ruhig bleiben, Ludwig."_

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Twisted fairy tale, eh? I have seriously been planning this chapter for an entire year. I wrote a majority of it in one day. I struggled to wait another two weeks to post it. I apologize for any tears that may have been shed.**

 **"Tauschlein" comes from Tausch, meaning "to** **swap" and "** **Täuschlein" comes from** **Täusch, meaning "to deceive."**

 **Published by** **Syntax-N on FanFiction . net December 16th, 2018. As always, reposters will be cursed.**


	69. The Fairy in the Box Revisited

All was quiet for now.

Alfred shivered as he tromped along the frozen ground. He clutched the blanket to his chest and exhaled, his breath condensing into a cloud. For a moment, he peered up at the glittery stars, constant in the night. Winter's prelude offered a brilliant view of the night sky without any moisture to obscure it. Alfred would have let his eyes settle on the stars if not for being reminded of Ludwig, who was afflicted by them.

Ludwig, the changeling's child. A little smile touched Alfred's lips. It was the most peculiar of thoughts that Gilbert would spend his life raising and caring for a human, but Ludwig seemed genuine in his concern for his "brother," so the bond they shared must have been strong. If Ludwig was given to someone who loved him dearly despite his humanness, perhaps other swap-children were, too.

But Alfred's smile fell when he remembered why he was out here in the first place. Ludwig, as intriguing as he was, had hurt Feliciano, and after the dog-man had left with the thrashing, screeching Gilbert, the fairy had fled in the opposite direction, still sobbing hysterically and not accepting any consolation. It was a hero's duty to help those in pain, and Alfred was determined to help Feliciano heal.

Besides, Alfred needed a time of aloneness in nature. He appreciated his companions, but tensions had risen, and annoyances had been wrought. Even Arthur's inner conflict was wearing thin on the lax changeling's nerves. Out here, the earth spoke a language he could understand without scrutinizing it. It wasn't magic, but somehow, Alfred just _knew_ the sleepy trees and frozen ground and sparkling snow had personalities of their own. It was like a song to him. The forest sang a humming, lulling summons that invited him in and held him close.

"I wonder if other fairies can feel it, too," he wondered aloud. Then he sighed and bit his lip. "With the way Arts talks, they probably forgot it a long time ago. Now the forest scares 'em 'cause it's _our_ realm… "

A high-pitched whimpering caught his attention then. Alfred peered through the darkness to his right. Without the vision of his true form, he could barely make out shapes in the shadows.

Curiously, he made his way to an enormous rectangular shape. It was a wooden box among the trees. Alfred clutched the edges and peered within. There, trembling and hugging his knees, was Feliciano. Or, it must have _been_ Feliciano.

Whereas Feliciano radiated joy from his whole being, this creature was a dark, empty void that radiated nothing and instead pulled everything into itself. Its presence froze and shattered the forest's song, leaving only cold, heavy despair. Its wings were crinkly, its skin was pale, and its eyes were red — not with enchantments — but with the remnants of tears. Alfred felt like it would crumble into dust if he touched it.

Yet… this _was_ Feliciano. The power in his voice proved it. He may have only been whimpering, but his whimpering caused Alfred's heart to plummet in his chest and his legs to crumple beneath him. It was a melody of pure, concentrated sorrow unlike anything he had ever heard or felt, and it sucked all joy from his heart and mind. His eyes were wet before he knew it. He tried to pull himself up to look into the box, but the pressure of the sorrow was too powerful.

 _The closed blades pressed deeper into his neck as the fairy traders jeered and kicked. His body was shrinking, withering and wasting away until only skin and bones remained. The one with the scissors pulled his ears and shouted._

 _"_ _You see what you've done? He's not one of your kind at all! He's a shapeshifter! A bleeding changeling, that's what he is! They steal away children and wear their shapes to steal from good people! I'll bet you this one was close to taking your son, eh, James? That's why he looked like him! Now tell me, how long have you been housing this blasted_ imp _and giving it food!?"_

 _Through tear-blurred eyes, he looked to the crowd of giants. All stared at him horrified as they slowly backed away. The trembling calves were pushed behind their parents' sturdy legs. He caught a glimpse of one calf — a little one with huge lilac eyes and a timid disposition. This calf was one who had so often smiled at him and put up with his tantrums and recklessness. Now his ears drooped, and his eyes were only fearful and sad, as if he saw a stranger instead of a brother. A deceptive creature… worthless and hideous…_

 _Hours went by. The fairies were chased off, and the biggest bull told him to stay where he was until they had come to a conclusion about his intrusion. Then, while he was still lying there in the dirt, hopeless and miserable and burned, the calf returned. He returned with only the fear and anger of before, and his hooves struck the creature as much as his words._

 _"_ _Go!" He cried. "Never come back here! You're not my brother! Go and never come back!"_

"No! Please! No! I'm sorry! Wake up! Don't be sad!"

Suddenly, Alfred's world swirled. His skin tingled and his stomach lurched as he felt himself rising out of the earth. It took a few moments for feeling and warmth to come back into his body. With a groan, he lifted his hands and clutched his forehead, trying to shake the sorrow from his system.

"I _am_ your brother. I love you as my brother. I know you didn't mean it. _I_ didn't mean it! I'm so sorry… Mattie…"

Only then did he realize two teary amber-gold eyes were staring back at him.

Feliciano was still sitting in the box, though some color had come back into his complexion, and he was no longer a shuddering wraith of cursed felicity. He clutched the edge of the box with shaking hands while Alfred kneeled on the other side and tried to regain his composure.

The winged one averted his gaze. "I'm the one who's sorry. Y-you scared me, and I'm feeling so stressed, and my whole life I've never really been able to control my magic, especially when I'm stressed. I can't even open my mouth without someone else feeling stressed, too. And I'm not just stressed. I'm stressed and sad, and my voice… my voice is a curse sometimes!"

Alfred shivered as the last shards of his painful memory splintered and crumbled to dust. He welcomed warm reality back to his consciousness. "Woah, Feli, calm down. I'm okay. Ya donafta feel bad any more than you already do."

Feliciano hunched lower in the box. "In Allegria, people either love my gift, or they're jealous of it, but I don't think they realize I can make people feel pain as much as I can make them happy, and my power only grows stronger as I get older. Oh, I should have gone to school like Grandpa Roma! I wanted to go so bad, but Lovi got expelled, and then... I can't talk about it. Oh, please tell me, did I hurt you?"

"I… kinna saw some sad memories."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't feel bad. It kinna felt like you were sucking my soul away for a minute there, but I'm strong enough to not let stuff like that get to me. Er, don't take that the wrong way. I came here to make you feel better. Though I guess if I already made you more upset…" He shifted on his knees.

"It's all right," Feliciano sighed, rising up to kneel in the box. "As long as you're okay, I won't feel bad. And I'm not going to run away from you. I don't know what I feel anymore, but I think I'm tired of being afraid. Of you, at least."

"Then you don't think I'm gonna eat you and steal your life?"

Feliciano shivered uneasily. "Eh, maybe you shouldn't talk about it like that, but I feel like being afraid wouldn't be worth the effort anyway. We're alone right now, and you aren't trying to drink my blood or absorb my essence—"

"Where do you guys keep getting that idea? I don't drink blood. I don't absorb anyone's essence."

"And what about devouring the entrails?"

"Your entrails are safe. I promise."

"But have you ever thought about devouring entrails?"

"I've devoured quite a few mice, but I was always in eagle form whenever that happened."

The fairy in the box grimaced at the thought, but he wasn't disheartened. (Alfred was sure nothing could dishearten him at this point.) Then, Feliciano did something completely unexpected. He reached out to pinch Alfred's cheek and pull it aside, revealing perfectly shiny white teeth.

"What are you doing?"

"You don't have fangs," the fairy remarked.

Alfred grinned. "I _do_ have them, just not right now. I didn't think you would like it if I did. But if you want, I can show you what I really look like. You can see your hero's true form, though he's not too pretty for a hero."

"Hero?" Feliciano echoed, cocking his head to the side.

Alfred sighed. "Oh, I guess I forgot. We kinna traumatized you trying to convince you Luddy was evil and all that. 'Course, you were beguiled and had to freeze whenever you saw me. I really didn't mean to make you freeze up in fear! I wanted more than anything to help you realize the danger you were in, even if you couldn't. Maybe I'm not such a big hero in your head. I'm just the one who made you freeze, 'cause I'm a—"

 _"_ _Why?"_

Alfred snapped his head to the box. Feliciano was sniffling again. His dull, glitterless eyes demanded an answer.

"Why what? Hey, it's all right. Don't cry. I brought a blanket for you." He offered the blanket forward, but Feliciano seemed afraid to touch it.

"Why are _you_ the good guy? Why is it that… that you don't want to steal my life, and you came out here to check on me, and you care so much when you barely know me? Why is a changeling the one who saved me? Forgive me if I'm being rude, but… _"_

Alfred furrowed his brow. "Why am I the good guy?"

The fairy nodded.

Alfred shivered before pulling on his leather gloves. "You may not believe this, but Gilbert is actually my old mentor, and if he's really a dark wizard, you aren't rude for being surprised that I'm good. You aren't rude for seeing me as a monster, either. It does sting a little, but that's not your fault. You were raised to think that way about creatures who steal kids."

"There are so many bad stories!"

"There are always more bad stories than good ones, but you're living a good one now! I hope. "

"But _why?"_

Alfred pursed his lips and gazed up at the stars. He thought of Ludwig, who was as good as much as he was evil, and then of Gilbert, who was really quite the same. He thought of Ludwig's desperation to rid himself of the curse — the evil born in a good heart — and Gilbert's bitterness showing him a dark solution to his pain — new evil wrought from old — and with a little changeling cleverness, he deduced an answer to Feliciano's question.

"Some people are more kind, and some people are more evil, but it's always a little mixture of both. It's experiences and choices that determine what goes into that mixture. I guess… the reason why I'm a good changeling is because I know what it's like to be in pain, and instead of taking it out on everyone else, I've chosen to help others so they donafta feel the way I did once."

"You were manipulated?"

"No, but I've felt the way you do right now. Sad… hopeless… worthless…"

"How do you know I feel like that?"

"It's the way I felt in those sad memories your spell made me see. You were projecting your feelings through your voice. And really, Feli, when I got here, you looked terrible. Anyone could see you're far from being your usual cheerful self."

"How could I be cheerful? I just spent three months of my life being deceived. And now I find out the one working so hard to stop L-loota-vig was the person I dreaded the most."

Alfred forced himself not to laugh. "I could tell myself I'm just a hideous, terrifying creature who will never have any friends. That's what Gilbert thinks of himself, and look where it's gotten him."

"You say that like he could be _good."_

"He is good. Inherently. You might think it's weird, but I think he really does love Ludwig like a brother."

"But _how?_ How could they be brothers? Loota-vig is human! And Gilbert is a horrible, ugly changeling!"

"You didn't hear what Luddy said before he left? He's a swap-child. Someone took him from his family when he was a baby, and Gilbert took care of him."

Feliciano paled at this. His jaw dropped, but he forced himself to respond. "A swap-child? And he was taken care of? By _them?_ And he calls Gilbert his _brother?"_

"Even I don't understand how Gilbert could fall into the brotherly role, but you can see he isn't completely evil."

"But… but he _must_ be! How could he _raise_ a swap-child?"

Alfred shrugged. "He's an evil fairy who loves his little brother. That's all I know. I couldn't tell you about his whole 'dark wizard' thing, but I know the reason he hurts others is 'cause he chose to be the monster others see him as.

"Now, I could also choose that path, or I could tell myself I'm better than that. I can be a good changeling and help people see that I'm worth more than a reputation. That there _are_ people in the world who support me and care about me despite my flaws. Um, not that I'm trying to force you to be my friend or anything… I understand if you're distrustful."

Feliciano was trusting enough. In fact, he rose out of the box and stood next to Alfred, taking the blanket from him and wrapping it around his wilted wings.

"Was it you who made him take his spell back?"

"Yeah. I just decided to beguile him. Give 'im a taste of what it feels like."

"I don't remember what happened when I was frozen. I just know what happened when I was awake and being controlled by that voice. I remember Arthur trying to tell me it was a changeling's charm I was under. I guess if that red-eyed creature I saw was the one who did it, and you made him undo it, then you _did_ save me. Because of that, I have no choice but to thank you no matter who you are. Accept my gratitude."

The sentiment was genuine, and immediately, Alfred could feel pride bubbling up within. It was warm and wonderful — the essence of a long-awaited goal finally reached. He looked at the stars again and debated whether to burst into tears or shout his giddy victory to the heavens.

"Show me," Feliciano said.

"Huh?"

"Show me your true form. I promise I won't run away. I may think your mercenaries went too far with trying to get me to believe them, but I was friends with _you_ at one point, and it wouldn't be fair not to acknowledge you as a hero when you care so much about helping me. _I_ want to call you a friend despite your flaws. If _they_ can be good, I want to meet a good one."

 _Dang, I wish Arts had given a speech like that,_ Alfred thought just as a few tears leaked out. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and steadied his balance. Summoning his magic, he closed his eyes and began to shrink into his clothes. His glasses slipped down on his nose as his ears sharpened and stretched.

Then, proudly yet awkwardly, he turned to Feliciano and attempted to smile in a way that wouldn't look sinister. His fangs poked past his lips, needle-sharp and gleaming.

Feliciano stood stiffly, pale in the face and wide-eyed. Of course he wouldn't accept such a sight so casually.

"I'll change back." Alfred muttered.

"No, it's okay. I said I'm not afraid. I've just… never seen a real fairy of darkness so close before, and I was a little freaked out when you transformed. I thought it would be like a poof of dust or a flash of light."

Alfred gave a wry smile. "My magical energy can't go to waste on aesthetics. It's used up enough as it is just keeping this ugly bag of bones alive."

"You don't look nearly as ugly as you did in my imagination!"

"Really?" He knew Feliciano was just being nice in spite of his fear, but the flattery was delicious.

"Well, yeah, they always say you have black, soulless pits for eyes. Yours are blue and sparkly! I don't want to stare into them because they _are_ dark, but I do think they're pretty. But wait… does that mean Lovino was telling the truth? When I saw Loota-vig after I took the blindfold off, his eyes were darker. Was it _you?"_

"It was, but it was to make you feel comfortable! I didn't want you to be afraid while we were leading you away from the real Luddy, so I took his shape and pretended to become the dog-man."

"He's not Herr Edelstein's cousin, then?"

"Your Herr Edelstein was Gilbert."

The fairy scrunched his nose. "Everyone's lied to me, and I believed it all."

"Feli, I—"

"You're forgiven." Feliciano gripped around Alfred's frail hand and shook it, then kissed both his hollow cheeks. "Of course I believed it all. I'm just a gullible pawn of a fairy who wouldn't make his grandpa proud even if he has the prettiest voice in Allegria. My heart is too big, and my courage is too small, and I almost let my inheritance fall into evil hands."

"Then it's your turn to make a choice. I didn't know your grandpa, but you did. Would he want you to see yourself as a coward, or would he want you to be proud of yourself?"

"I can't be proud of myself! You tell me how I'm supposed to be proud of myself!"

Alfred realized he had hit the weak nerve. Now Feliciano was spilling himself, and all the feelings of inadequacy and hopelessness were pouring forth. How _could_ Feliciano feel proud of himself when he'd believed every lie and trusted completely in deceit? The blanket sagged around the fairy's wings. The stardust in his eyes flickered and dimmed even further.

"You were beguiled. It's not your fault."

"It's my fault for getting beguiled. It's my fault for trusting Loota-vig even before I was beguiled. What am I going to tell my mamma when I get home? She always said my papà was turned to stone while doing business with humans and that Grandpa Roma died of a broken heart. I'm the last musical fairy in Allegria, and I can't even control my powers, and I let myself be deceived so easily! I'm _not_ who my grandpa was. I can _never_ live up to who my ancestors were."

"Feli, stop."

"I'm irresponsible and reckless and foolish and afraid of everything—"

"You've got to stop!"

"I panic in bad situations. I let my guard down. I can't think straight. I can _never_ be proud of _anything_ I've done when all I am is a _fool!"_

Alfred slammed his hand over the fairy's mouth and bared his teeth. Feliciano began to whimper loudly, but the changeling only pressed his hand firmer.

"Your voice is powerful, remember? You already feel hopeless. Now look. Every time you say something demeaning about yourself, it gets worse."

With his other hand, he took Feliciano's wrist and held it up for the fairy to see. Feliciano's hands were trembling and pale, just as they had been before. Dark blotches had appeared under his dull brown eyes. And behind him, though Alfred didn't want to show him, spidery white cracks had come over his delicate wings.

The emotional gravity returned. The forest grew darker and colder. Alfred shivered when the sorrow began to swirl and stir up dust in the shadows. For consolation, he returned to his disguised form and perched his glasses back on his nose. Then the changeling looked Feliciano in his teary eyes and smiled.

"You aren't being controlled anymore, Feli. You're your own person now. Everything is gonna be okay. Maybe you don't feel proud of yourself, but that's something we all have to work on. Right now, you have to make a choice. Are you going to accept yourself as you are, or will you keep letting your own magic hurt you?"

Feliciano sobbed in response, but Alfred could see he was fighting his sorrow just as he'd fought the spell for so long. A spark of understanding lit up his eyes before he reached out to wrap his hero in quite the unexpected hug. Alfred took his hand away and returned the embrace, patting Feli's back and whispering even more reassurance.

"I think Herr Edelstein is in danger."

"I wouldn't worry. Gilbert's in good hands now. If he wanted to hurt Rotary, he won't be able to anymore. Now, how about we get you back to the fire where it's warm? I know it might make you uncomfortable to be near the ones who tied you up and… er… Arts wants to do an 'assessment' on you to make sure all the evil magic is really gone. Your brother should be okay by now."

"Oh no, Lovi! Is he all right? He kept saying he had a headache, too! But I don't remember him getting beguiled at all!"

"Knowing my friend Artie, your brother should be just fine. Let's go see."

Feliciano clung to the changeling's arm as they made their way back through the trees, and Alfred couldn't help but beam.

At last, he felt like a real hero!

* * *

He whimpered again. It was a sound only few knew, and even fewer could tolerate. A sound like creaky stairs and untuned piano keys.

She held his head in her lap. He had been asleep for perhaps an hour now, and the whimpering had only begun recently. He was dreaming again, she realized. Gingerly, she ran her fingers through his sleek, brunet hair and smiled down at his innocent appearance. Even in a purple coat with thick, woolen socks bulging out of his pointy-toed shoes, he was the portrait of refinement.

This notion was dashed when he snorted and jerked suddenly, throwing her hand into the air.

"Where am I? What has happened? Have you doused me? I'm burning!"

She put a finger to her lips. "You were dreaming. Was it another nightmare?"

Then realizing the vulnerability of his position, he sat up to straighten his posture and gazed unaffected out the window of the carriage. They were traveling in the middle of the night, of all times, and the friendly orange glow of the lanterns helped to ease his composure.

"F sharp," he remarked. "He played a pure F sharp, F for 'fire.' I was burning, but there were no flames. And it — _he_ laughed. It sounded like sparks."

She wrapped her arms around him from the back and pulled his gaze away from the window. He eyed her critically, but she gave a wry, knowing smile and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

"Oh, your troubles never seem to end. What you need is a nice Sachertorte when you get home from this business in Amotoile."

"I've told you time and time again that I have no business. You simply insisted that I did after I had to prove to you I wasn't a despicable _imp_ hiding in the closet for two weeks. You've been acting very foolish, anyway. The only reason we are in Amotoile is because there's been some terrible mistake, and now Feliciano could be in great danger."

She folded her hands neatly in her lap and huffed in annoyance. "Right. I have been silly. Business or no business, you must be in Amotoile for something, and if it's rescuing Feliciano, I will give you my full support."

"Good," he forced, wringing his own hands. "I will require your assistance much more than you think. Nefarious forces are at work, and though it is undignified of a man to admit such a fault, I am terribly afraid."

* * *

It was around this time when Kiku returned to the fire ring utterly frustrated, (and this is not saying much.)

Before he could reach this place, however, he heard a distinct whirring sound. He looked up to see the four-legged, stubby-winged, pineapple-bodied, crane-like spirit hovering just above him and sticking its long neck down to peer at him strangely.

"Hello, Kiku," he squawked.

"Ah, Supainappuru-san. It is good to see you as well. Unfortunately, I do not have time to speak. I am on a mission to find Doggie-san so that Fairy-ciano will be happy again."

The spirit cocked his head. "Now, I've seen both a dog-man and a Fairy-ciano tonight, but I'm not so sure bringing them together would cause any happiness."

"You have seen Doggie-san? Please tell me where he is! Fairy-ciano has agreed to give him his amulet out of the goodness of his heart, and once he does so, he will be very happy!"

The spirit landed before him. He came only to about Kiku's waist. "From what I heard, he won't be very happy. Your fairy friend said he'd been deceived by that dog-man. Beguiled. He sounded sad."

"But that is impossible. Fairy-ciano cannot be sad when he thinks of Doggie-san. They are best friends."

"I don't think everything is as it seems to you, Kiku. If you like, I can tell you everything I saw tonight. I saw a changeling called Gilbert remove a spell from Fairy-ciano's mind. I saw Fairy-ciano crying that he'd been beguiled and manipulated. I saw the dog-man crying that he was cursed while clutching his changeling brother Gilbert in his arms. I saw a big black eagle with lots of little owls surrounding it. I saw a toad. And right now, I can see that you yourself are beguiled, but you can't realize it or care because you aren't in the living realm."

"I have missed so much," Kiku muttered. "I do not believe I am beguiled, however."

"Then you probably don't want to go into that fire ring. I think it's three guesses, but if you _do_ see that man and become alive again, the spell in your mind will torture you."

"What do you mean, 'three guesses?'"

The crane spirit stiffened. It hopped into the air, but Kiku caught one of its legs and squeezed.

"What do you know about the human who shows me my past?"

"I am a guide spirit! I am supposed to guide, not tell!"

"Then guide me! You know something about him. Who is he? Why does he look like the man I killed?" He squeezed tighter around the crane's leg, feeling a shell of emotion he knew must have been a remnant of his living mind. It was desperation.

"You are supposed to figure it out on your own! I can't tell you that you recognize his spirit! Oh dear…"

"I recognize his spirit?" Kiku began to ponder this, but his spiritual thought process was interrupted when a sound of anguish cut through the trees.

* * *

"Now, relax, Lovino! You must relax!" Arthur forced. He pushed the fairy back down on his side while he continued to shudder.

"There's a spell in my head," he moaned. His shoulders twitched, and he tried to inch away, but Arthur held him steady.

"I know. I've been telling you this for… wait, you _know_ there's a spell in your head?"

Lovino nodded, grimacing. "It's… getting weaker, but it's there."

"It's getting weaker? How could that be possible? Gilbert only removed the spell from Feliciano." Arthur gripped around Lovino's head and entered his mind. He nearly released out of surprise.

The red spell was _evaporating._ Thick tendrils of it spasmed before splitting into threads that peeled away into miniscule grains that floated off into nothingness. And there, as it had been before, was a golden glitter that Arthur could only see if his mind's eye were focusing on something completely different.

"Spell is going away?" Ivan asked.

"My queen, it is! Ivan, do you know anything about this? What can you see?"

Ivan squinted, then shook his great, goatish head. "All I can see within him is a lot of bitterness and love for his brother. Oh, there is also girl!"

"A girl? Did a girl beguile him?"

"No, he loves girl, but will not admit it."

"Well, I don't need the secrets of his love life, now do I? Curious, curious. The spell appeared identical to the force controlling Feliciano. Why, then, is it disappearing?"

"I want to ask her to marry me," Lovino slurred. "Giulia Ilaria Giappone. I never realized I loved her until—"

"Lovi!" Feliciano cried as he rushed from the foliage. Alfred stumbled forward after him. "Lovi, please tell me you're okay! I can heal you! I can mend your wing! We'll go to Allegria first thing in the morning, and together, we'll find Grandpa Roma's amulet, and I'll mend your wing!"

Lovino strained to push himself up, but he shuddered again as the spell contined to fade. Still, he twisted his features into a frown and snapped irritably at his brother. "So you finally see some sense. I think I finally see some sense as well."

"You do!?"

Lovino loosened a bit and gave his tired attempt at a smile.

"The spell in his mind has completely vanished. It's the most curious thing. Even in all my studies and practice, never has a spell behaved in such a manner," Arthur admitted.

Feliciano could only beam. "Then it's a miracle."

* * *

Unbeknownst to the happy party, the spirits, the miserable brothers, and the undignified nobles, a figure sat on a velvet stool with its eyes closed and its lips tight. Through the eyes of a certain enormous black eagle and several assorted owls, it had seen everything.

"What a mess," it said.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **I'm back from working on some Betareading projects! (If you enjoy _Hetafata_ 's magic, transformations, and humor, go read Animetronic's _Wolves of the World!_ If you prefer the deep characters, heartwarming family scenes, and lore, go read Eaglesfeather17's _A New Beginning!_ ) **

**I am proud to announce that I have fully outlined the rest of _Hetafata!_ However, this doesn't mean the story will be done anytime soon...**

 **Giulia is a character from my much shorter story, _Grape Leaves._ It reveals the details of a certain unfortunate event in Lovino's history. **

**Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net January 12th, 2019. Reposters will be ACCURSED! BWAHAHAHA!**


	70. Names Old and Now Remembered

Before all was happy, (or at least civil,) among the Allegrians and Mercs, there had been some significant quarrels among them. Feliciano, while wanting to make peace, was only able to warm up to Alfred, (much to Francis' horribly disguised dismay,) and Lovino could hardly accomplish warming up to any of them. It was Arthur who suggested they all move back into town for the night, and so after both brothers had been properly examined for magical maladies and Francis had painstakingly plucked himself, the group begrudgingly set off back the way they came. Ivan trailed at least ten feet behind Lovino, per his wishes, but gazed apologetically down on the little fairy's back.

It was now when Kiku finally threw himself before Yao. He readied himself for a rush of memories and sensations.

Nothing happened.

"You again!" Yao growled, pointing a finger at the translucent figure before him. "I don't know you! Knock it off!"

"But you must! You are from my past! I remember you somehow! I recognize your spirit! That is what I was told!"

"How can you recognize my spirit? I'm not dead."

"Please just tell me who you are. I recognize your spirit. What does that mean? Tell me what it means, Supainappuru-san!"

He looked to the crane spirit, who now hovered a safe distance above and was flashing Kiku a sorry smirk. Yao and his companions looked upward but were unable to see the fantastic creature pedaling his twiggy legs and adjusting his leafy hat.

"How _do_ you know him, Kiku?" Feliciano asked. He skipped over to his intangible friend.

"I do not know. The last three times I saw him, he showed me memories. The first time, I saw myself drawing a sword. The second time, I saw myself driving that sword through a man with golden eyes. The third time, I saw that man lying dead before me and the girl he had killed. Sakura. She was my sister, and I killed this man to avenge her. But now, I do not see anything."

"Because I haven't been showing you anything. I'm not that man with golden eyes. I'm not a wizard guiding you along some journey of memories. I've never even seen you before in my life, and I'm nearly forty!"

"You're _forty?"_ Came the lilting gasp from Arthur behind him.

"I said I was older than you."

"You must have taken some sort of de-aging potion!"

"Are you trying to make a compliment or be offensive?"

"I am _not_ offensive!"

"I am over two hundred years old," said Ivan.

"What? You mean you're the same demon king who invaded Darkland in 16— and it was just your regime that seized all the demon lands to unify them under a blanket of snow?" Francis shivered.

"Fairies live longer than humans, don't they? Maybe demons live longer than fairies," Matthew muttered.

"Have you never heard of demon deal?"

"Signing your soul away in blood?" Alfred asked.

"No, no. Demon deal is card game. If you win, you take other person's soul. I have no need for souls, so I enjoy crushing them into powder to separate essence from energy and drinking energy with tea. Tea makes everything proper and relaxing. I did not know at first that this would extend my lifespan, but now it is fun annual tradition for my sisters and I."

"Is no one ever going to comment on the atrocities this man has caused?" Francis murmured.

Arthur frowned. "What atrocities?"

"So then, most demons can't live forever. Are you like fairies, then? You die when your magic fails?" Alfred asked.

Ivan's ears twitched. "I do not know. I have never died before."

"Then we need to talk to someone who has died. Arts, you know about necromancy, right?"

"No, and I've told you that before."

"But can you raise people from the dead?"

 _"_ _No!_ What are you even trying to get at? This is a pointless conversation."

"I think you would need soul for resurrection," said Ivan. "Some souls are flavored differently than others. Fire demon souls are sour, so you must not put too much lemon juice in with the tea—"

"My stars. He drinks souls in his tea," Matthew murmured.

"It's only fitting for the king of _demons,"_ Lovino growled behind him.

"But a soul can be a spirit, can't it?" Asked Feliciano. "So Kiku, what does it mean if you recognize Yao's spirit? Have you seen it somewhere before? Maybe he's a spirit who's been brought back to life!"

"I was born nearly forty years ago in a dingy village and worked my way up the ladder to become the richest merchant and cook in the whole valley! No magic! No potions! I've never even seen a real dragon!"

"A _dragon!"_ Kiku exclaimed. Anxiously, he strode over and tried to touch the human, but his hands were still translucent. "That word. Dragon. Something about it is important. I am trying to remember, but you must help me! We know each other somehow! If you are not the man I killed, then who are you!?"

"The man you killed?" Feliciano scrunched his brows and squinted in deep thought. "Oh, wow! I think I know! Do you think he was reborn?"

"That's ridiculous," Yao grumbled. "Arthur, you're the weirdest one of us. Is reincarnation real?"

"Who's being offensive now?" Arthur huffed. "Why would I know something like that? The only life magic I've worked with is a series of black curses intended to banish these caterpillars from my face! Not that I intend to do that _now._ I've grown used to them!"

"You also created Peter."

"Shut it, shadowborn!"

"Reincarnation," Kiku mused. "Reborn… You were reborn, whoever you are. And I am seeing memories because I recognize you, even if you don't recognize yourself. I must make peace with you! I lost my honor with your death, but perhaps it can be restored now that you live! Help me remember! Give me a sign that you remember me so I can remember you!"

"Oh, this is all nonsense. Does anything he's saying make any sense?"

The Mercs of the Messy Hand all looked to each other, shrugging. It was a valid point.

"You must be him. Forgive me."

"I forgive you. Fine. I don't even remember killing your sister. This is the first I'm hearing of her. I wouldn't kill anyone, anyway. A good-hearted dragon is more likely to have killed her than me."

"A good-hearted dragon…" Kiku repeated. His form pulsed and hummed.

Feliciano smiled. "Are you remembering more?"

He nodded. Flashes were clouding his vision. A dragon! How could he have forgotten!? A dragon!

* * *

His limbs were turning to metal. They weighed him down until he dropped his sword. His body collapsed. He fell upon his weapon and choked. His eyes met with those of the dying man.

His golden eyes flickered, and his lips creaked apart. "I did not kill her," he seethed. "I came to bring the storm. She slipped and fell into the river. I tried to save her, but all I could do was change her. I came to bring her back to you. What have you done?"

Then his jaw went slack, marking the end of his fight. His form was bathed in hot golden light, and he began to grow. His body stretched and thickened and coiled, ripping out of his silk robes and burning them to dust. His hands and feet narrowed and swelled into enormous claws. His face pushed into a fanged, whiskered muzzle, and a feathered, snake-like tail stretched out far behind. Golden scales plated his paling skin, and horns sprouted from his forehead to stab into the dirt. His soft, silver belly still oozed dark, tar-like blood from the fatal wound.

A dragon. He had killed a dragon. A beast that was good, pure, and magical. He had only come to bless this place with spring rain, and Sakura's death was only a tragic accident. In guilt, he had fallen upon his sword before even seeing the dragon take his true shape. He wheezed. His own blood was pooling in the grass around him. The remaining golden power of the dragon was burning his body away in spite. He could no longer breathe or feel or see.

He was gone.

He awoke, suddenly. The world intensified. Color floated, and sound danced. There were no bodies, dragon or human. Only a scarred, blackened patch of earth. Before him sat what appeared to be a young girl. Her form wavered and splished. Rivulets of water dripped from her hair and clothes. Her jewelry was strung with agates, and her skin was stained with roiling sediment.

She was a river spirit.

* * *

Kiku gasped, though he didn't know why. His form was flickering now. He grasped a fiery sensation in his hands, then lost it. He smelled ashes and saw flecks of gold in the corners of his vision.

"You are him. The dragon. We have met once again. Are you willing to forgive me? Make peace with me? I was impatient. I was grieving. I did not understand that you were trying to save her. I thought you meant to drown her with your storm, and when I saw you carrying her body from the river, my rage consumed me. Forgive me and take back your grudge."

"Um…" Yao stood back a bit. "I'm not doing this to him. Does anyone else know anything about this?"

"You have to forgive him!" Feliciano cried. "He sees his wrongs!"

"I don't remember his wrongs! I already forgave him! I'm not a dragon! If I was one, I was reborn completely human!"

"You could kill him. Then you could speak to his spirit," Ivan suggested. "When you are finished making up, I will turn him into herbal tea, and we can all share him together!"

"I'm not letting you touch my china tea set again," said Arthur. "You already snapped two handles off the cups and cracked the sugar dish with your frost."

The demon frowned. "Then could we make biscuits? I know my hands are large, but they are good for crushing souls. I could crush it, and you could make deplorable biscuits with it. Then, after you freeze in ice dungeon—"

"Dude, this ice dungeon seems sketchy. I'm pretty sure nothing can be as cold as the polar vortex of doom back where I'm from—"

"No one is being turned into tea or frozen! We've had enough 'turning' already today!" Francis shrieked. He threw off his hood and clicked his beak. "Yao, just forgive him again. Put some spirit into it. We are all tired and hungry and deserve a good, long soak in the tub and a bit of grain… _Oh là là."_

"I forgive you!" Yao yelled, shoving the hovering, semi-tangible Kiku away. "Dragons are not spiteful creatures. Whether you killed him a thousand years ago or forty, his grudge can end now. Hmm, no wrongs were done. It was a misunderstanding. All is cleared up now."

Kiku came back again. He forced himself and Yao into a hug and tried to feel his spirit. In his phase between worlds, he recognized the force. Golden and glowing, yet changed by time and the wash of the universe against it. It was no longer a dragon's spirit, but a simple human's. It only remembered him in energy and not in essence. Still, he felt it pulling and shifting. It curled up relaxed in its new identity, yet still burned against Kiku's presence.

"That's hot! What are you doing?" Yao snapped.

"Just a little more. Accept me! Let us make peace!"

Yao scoffed. Then he loosened and looked Kiku in the eyes. "You are free," he said dramatically. He put his spirit into it. He accepted this odd being. For the moment.

The golden heat forced them away from each other. It enveloped Kiku, weaving and arcing through his form. All at once, he felt as if he were burning away. Smoldering ashes and cinders poured from his withering body. His flesh flaked. His bones melted. His essence burst into flame.

But he only burned for a moment before the golden power softened and embraced him. Slowly, the feelings reversed. His hands fleshed out. His bones grew back. The redness healed. His body was reforming from the dust it had been reduced to so long ago.

The dragon was giving it back.

He coughed and shuddered in the dirt. His clothes shimmered white before transmuting back to a simple robe. A sword was buckled to his side.

His vision swam. He saw memories flooding by. His country. His home. His family. His interests and loves. They were dingy and tarnished, but lovingly worn. Shaking, he lifted his eyes to see the crane spirit beginning to disappear.

"Not everyone gets the chance to make peace. You're lucky," he chirped before he vanished from sight.

"Kiku!" Feliciano exclaimed. He kneeled down and patted his friend's back while he hacked out ashes and dirt.

"I…" he heaved. His voice was creaky.

"You're alive for real this time! I can touch you! Let me help you up!"

Feliciano strained to pull the man to his feet. He brushed some raven-black hair from Kiku's eyes. Kiku looked even more solid than he had been when he regained his life in the times before. Playfully, Feliciano squished his cheeks and smiled.

"Do not touch me," Kiku said, stepping back. "I enjoyed personal space in my past life."

"Past life?"

"Yes. This feels… like a second life to me. I cannot feel my spirit self anymore, but I felt it changing as I changed. I felt something evil being burned away from it, and I felt it adapting to a new body in a new time. I am the same, but not the same."

"Can you even remember your spirit life?"

"Not entirely. It is like the memory of a dream now. I have forgotten your name, and I have forgotten where I am, but I know that I am safe, and that the dragon and I have made peace."

"Right," Yao snorted.

"My name is Feliciano Vargas Roma! I'm from Allegria! Isn't this great? We can all go home!" Then he gasped. "Hey, do you remember your own name?"

Kiku shifted on his feet. He rubbed his fingers together and tried to accept the feelings as natural. "Honda Kiku."

"You mean your name was Kiku all along?"

He nodded. "Yes. I was Kiku, and my sister was Sakura. We were both named after flowers. Oh, Sakura! She was the river spirit! I must return home and see if she still remembers me! Perhaps she can make herself visible to the living! But… but I do not know how to get home. This place is so unfamiliar. My home has islands and mountains."

"It can't be far from where I live if that dragon ended up at your house. My family has lived in the same place for centuries," Yao said. "I suppose… maybe… you know what? Just come with me. I'm leaving tomorrow, anyway. There's no use trying to track down that letter-writing duke when the dark wizard probably already got to him."

"We can all go home tomorrow!" Feliciano sang. He flitted over and threw his arms around his brother, beaming and humming a song of joy.

* * *

When Gilbert awoke, he was very, very sick.

Ludwig recognized this sickness. It went beyond perpetual frailty. It went beyond being unable to transform. It went beyond weakness itself. It was a sickness of truth, and it plagued Gilbert with the truth that he was haggard, the truth that he was aged, and the truth that he was defeated. His eyes had lost their sparkle. His lips were loose and wrinkled. His body sagged into the uniform he still wore as if all of reality pressed down on him. He stared off into space, seeing everything and nothing at once.

Ludwig's mind had warped along with the circling stars. He found himself whining to the morning light as his muscles finished bubbling and his bones crunched down to normal size. It was only after he reverted when he saw through human eyes the state Gilbert lay in. Swiftly, he threw the night cloak around him and went to the changeling lying in the dirt with his eyes glazed and his mouth hanging open. His chest rose and fell feebly.

"Gilbert?" He breathed, taking a spidery hand in his own and squeezing.

Gilbert closed his mouth. He weakly turned his head and seemed to be looking through a haze to meet his brother's eyes. His face remained expressionless. Then he closed his eyes and made a creaky, rasping noise in his throat.

"Sleep," Ludwig told him, his voice quavering with badly-stifled panic. "Rest, sleep, imagine you're safe and warm at home."

He looked down. By some miracle, he hadn't clawed off his pants, and his socks and boots were still stowed under a dry stump. He had nothing to cover his torso, so he pulled the loose folds of the cloak tighter around his form and shivered in the biting cold of morning. A thick coat of fur did serve its advantages over the light blanket of body hair he was used to.

Ludwig then seized his paltry belongings, swaddled Gilbert up in all of his blankets, and scooped him up to cradle in his arms.

He had no particular plan in mind except to begin walking. The mercenaries could wait. Feliciano's apology could wait. Ludwig shivered at the memory of Fritz loosening and dropping backwards into the snow. He saw the calm come over the wizened fairy's face. He saw the wave of energy erupt violently from his body and dissolve him into darkness. How old had he been? And why had he been so calm? Did all changelings really accept death so calmly? And if so…

"Lud…" Gilbert croaked. "You're… squeezing me."

He looked down, the damn tears from the previous night starting to prick again. Besides Gilbert's sickness, he had Schloss Liutberht to consider. His human family were all made of stone, and all he could possibly inherit now belonged to Basch.

Not that he wanted it anyway. He had never felt there was affluence or nobility in his blood. It may have explained his commanding aura and aptitude for learning, but Ludwig wasn't Otto. He was never going to be Otto. As far as he knew, the only true Otto had been a changeling, and he was executed at the hand of Roderich Edelstein.

"Do you think I'm dying?" Gilbert's loose lips gave their pitiful attempt at a smirk. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper that sounded like wind passing through reeds.

"Please don't go," Ludwig forced. "I need you. I don't have anyone else."

Gilbert shuddered in his arms. "What is this? Why are you having a crisis?"

He saw Fritz falling again. Ever so frail. Ever so weak. Persistent and resilient, yet delicate and dying. And with his painstaking extra effort, both Ludwig and Gilbert were still here in this moment with all the memories they shared and ever would share.

"I won't go if you don't want me to. I don't want you to be sad."

"But you _would?"_

Gilbert sighed a shivery breath that lingered as a cloud in the freezing air. "No, I suppose I wouldn't. I'm a fighter. I don't give up. Fritz would never give up."

"Fritz fought until his very last breath."

"And now is not the end for me, even though some weird part of me does want it to be. Did you ever go back and secure our chance of getting what I want?"

The reedy, raspy tone had taken on a cold, serrated edge. Ludwig began walking again, keeping his head up and his grip on Gilbert strong. He ignored the question. Gilbert was insane if he was going to keep the hope of that amulet alive. Rasping and shuddering, and he still wanted to fight for whatever twisted values he held dear.

"I hope you're taking me to that fairy. I have another scheme. No mercenary will ever separate my power from Feliciano again."

"You are in no shape for scheming."

"Then you can do the work. When I'm well enough, I'll transform and follow you."

"Are you going to take that curse back from Sir Francis?"

"It's only a perennial curse. It'll fade in a week and come back next fall. Now. Take. Me. To. That. Fairy."

"I'm not a monster."

"This isn't about being a monster. It's about revenge."

"Gilbert, you're my brother, and you're my family, but I'm ending your reign as the dark wizard. I thought you had sworn off cursing a long time ago. When I was first cursed, remember? You let me hold you while I transformed, and I nearly snapped your spine in half, but you said you finally understood the pain you had caused. You said the thought of harming others with magic made you _sick._ Why, then, are you so mad for power now? What changed in you? Last night, I could hardly recognize you. Alfred called you a villain, and you acted like one."

"You don't want to rid yourself of the curse that crushed us? We could destroy Basch together. I died the first night I had to listen to you scream and watch you change. I _died,_ Lud."

"And I die every night, cursing Basch for changing me, but it's what I live with. Let him have his castle and his power for now. There will be another chance someday, somehow, to undo my curse. We just have to be diligent in looking for it."

"I thought you wanted it gone _now."_

"I _do,_ brother. I want it more than anything. I want it more than to know who I am. But you can't have everything you want just by wanting it."

"I don't want you to die a _dog."_

The notion struck a chord, and Ludwig repeated the mantra he'd repeated a thousand times already. _Gaaanz ruhig bleiben._ He exhaled and tamed his wild thoughts.

 _"_ I know you feel awful about being unable to protect me. Maybe you feel like you haven't lived for anything and you've failed at the one thing that makes you happy. But this isn't the end. You're not going to die unhappy. I'm not going to die a dog. Feliciano isn't going to suffer anymore. Let's go home and make potato soup together."

With a fit of coughing, Gilbert managed to wriggle a bit and wrestle one of his arms up out of the blankets. He placed his withered hand over Ludwig's strong one. Then, with the first expression he'd been able to muster in his pained weakness — an angry one — he looked at Ludwig and spoke in heaving breaths:

"Do you want to know why I acted so different? What changed in me? Why I'm 'mad?' I have reason to believe Roderich Edelstein murdered your changeling. It was Feliciano who told me he knew a boy at Edelweiss around your age who looked exactly like you. I then realized I had seen Feliciano once before, at Edelweiss. He was only a little fairy cleaning up the place, and I saw him the day I cursed Edelstein's hand for signing a changeling child's execution form.

"The form had been printed in all these crisp little letters, stamped, signed, and crinkled in Roderich's clammy hands. It was a nice little artifact of a nice little human bureaucracy dealing with the extermination of the fairer folk. He was about to slip it into an envelope and mail it off to confirm another kill. I threw it into the fire with such a fury that I didn't even see the name printed on it.

"I threw myself on Edelstein and strangled him before I even took out my flute. I slashed at him and bit him and dashed his head into a piano bench. Call me a monster, but he had a child _executed._ And now I know it was _your_ child. Your _brother-in-mischief._ Your _Täuschlein._ Edelstein took his life and his future from him, and now it's my responsibility to see that Edelstein's life and future are taken from him forever.

"This is not just my revenge. It is yours. It is your changeling's. It is the fairer folk's. I am telling you the truth, Ludwig. Be happy that I'm alive. Love me and be loved by me, but know I'm going to fight until my very last breath just like Fritz did, and when the time comes when I can fight no more, I want you to be strong and continue fighting whatever battles you may face with that same fire. _"_

He suddenly reeled back and wheezed in pain, his eyes squeezing shut and his body shaking. Ludwig tried not to drop him in his rising alarm. He maneuvered Gilbert's head into the crook of his elbow as he rasped and coughed.

Phantom shadows danced in Ludwig's imagination. Fear. Spite. Roderich growing up in a world that cursed the darkness and killed its children. Gilbert growing up in a world that hated him without reason and shaped him into a cruel and heartless creature. Both sides scheming and reeling. (What a time to discover he was a Libra!)

And yet, whether it was love or a disdain for the prejudice that gripped the world, he sided with Gilbert. At least Gilbert had never killed anyone. At least he understood it was good to love. At least he had changed his ways. Somewhat.

"Otto. Hermann Otto. That was his name."

Gilbert hacked. "Whose name?"

"My changeling's name. The name he stole from me. It was Otto."

"Otto," Gilbert burbled as if drunk. His rant had taken all of his energy, and he was settling back down into his sickly stupor. "I like Ludwig much better."

"So do I."

* * *

Gilbert slept, and Ludwig was glad of it. He didn't need his brother exhausting himself pointing out all the ways they could still steal Feliciano's inheritance and take revenge on the world. Gilbird returned and alighted on Ludwig's shoulder. It had come bearing a small sack of food, some bills, and a note from Alfred.

The changeling boy had gotten all of his "Are we cousins?" and "Let's fight again soon!" sentiments out of the way in the first paragraph. He then went on to say the mercenaries would not be following him any more, (as long as he kept to himself and Gilbert didn't attack a certain duke.) Feliciano and Lovino were healthy and spell-free, and Kiku had made peace with the one he killed. All would be returning home as soon as they finished breakfast. Ludwig could come and apologize if he wished, but Feliciano was not quite up to seeing him again.

Ludwig's heart sank. Not even friendly Feliciano wanted to see him. Remorsefully, he trudged on through the dead grass. The gates of Lafée would be apparent soon, not that he would be allowed in.

"Absolutely dreadful. What a mess. What a horrible mess. And I know _he's_ behind it all. Just the thought of _him_ slithering around in my body doing awful things is enough to make me light-headed. Oh, I need to sit down."

The voice had come out of nowhere, and Ludwig, already tense that morning, jumped when he heard it honking through the trees. He was even more surprised to see its owner slumped over on a stump and looking quite bedraggled. He held his face in his hands and continued to mutter to himself.

"It shouldn't be long, and Eliza will have sorted all of this out. I do hope she doesn't sort it out violently. If only she wasn't so mannish. Her tongue is enough to satisfy any argument without whipping out weapons and wrestling. Unseemly woman, but I loved her and love her still, and she says we cannot be together any longer because she is a witch and I despise her craft."

Ludwig wrinkled his nose. In his arms, Gilbert shifted and bared his teeth. Should he try to avoid confrontation? No one would talk to a disheveled, shirtless man cradling a changeling in his arms.

The muttering man must have heard him because he jolted in his seat and glanced around wildly. His hands flew from his face, revealing a pointed nose and a strong chin and a few gray wisps of hair outlining his conditioned brunet tresses.

He was the man from the nightmare — Roderich Edelstein. He was much taller and older and grayer, but he still possessed a meager frame and a pair of violet eyes that bulged with paranoia. Even now, they scanned the scene, searching for threats.

Ludwig's logic told him to hide and scrutinize Edelstein from a distance. His emotions told him to reveal himself. For the nth time in the past few days, his emotions got the best of him.

Startled further, Edelstein threw himself behind the stump and muttered frustrations under his breath. Quietly, Ludwig deposited Gilbert under a shady tree and covered his face with a blanket. He then stood to face everything he stood against.

"Honestly, is it not enough what has all happened to me? Now I cannot have a bit of privacy mulling over it? And not even with a cup of coffee. Or tea, even. Tea always makes everything proper and relaxing. My head is spinning. I feel faint again. I think it's my heart. I should've called on the physician again before I left. If I only knew—"

"Edelstein."

The one in question picked himself up and for once had a good look at this newcomer. The same discriminating eyes of Ulrich and Gertrude declared him their son as he scrutinized every inch of Ludwig's unseemly appearance. When they reached his steely, icy gaze, Edelstein froze in place and seemed to pale even more. Unknowingly, he clawed at his chest and drew in a series of quick, short breaths.

"Otto…"

It came out in an thin whisper, as if the name were cursed. But Edelstein was used to persisting through his terrors, and as he continued to speak, his voice quavered and grew in volume. "Y-you were dead. You were dead. You breathed in the incense. I signed the form. They carried you out in a sheet. They put arrows through your heart. You were _dead_ by my hands! I killed you! Why do you stand before me now!?"

"By your hands, a changeling was killed! I am the _real_ Otto Beilschmidt! The _human_ Otto! The one replaced by the innocent changeling you _murdered!"_

Ludwig tromped forward, not knowing for the life of him why he was trembling or why he had called himself Otto. His anger was rising, and he could feel it in his fists. Perhaps it was Gilbert's rant, and perhaps it was the heart of justice Gigi had gifted him telling him this was the moment he was fated for.

"Why do you look so angry!? Could it be? It is you! You look just like your father! You were born of the same high blood I was! Born around the same horses and carriages! We are kin! Cousins! I am your cousin Roderi—"

"I will not be cousins with such a _beast!"_

 _CRUNCH._

Edelstein's introduction was cut short because he was now lying on the ground a few feet away, blood spurting from a now-broken pointed nose. Ludwig's knuckles stung. Absentmindedly, he wiped them on his cloak, feeling sickly warm fluid staining the skin. Strangely, all of this felt vaguely familiar.

Edelstein began to moan hysterically, but he could make no movements. Then another voice rang out in the distance.

"Roddy? Where are you? Are you hurt!? I swear they'll let you in now! No more 'the Duke of Edelweiss is not welcome' nonsense!"

Ludwig, panicking once again, kicked the Duke of Edelweiss in the stomach for good measure and scooped up the changeling.

Gilbert groaned, "Ludwig, I hear the sound of a conniving little human waiting to turn into a foul faul fowl. Do you have what I want?"

"Shut up! You're imagining things! You're having a sick dream! You're dreaming that you're avenging my changeling!" Ludwig barked, stuffing blanket into Gilbert's mouth and covering up his feverish red eyes. He looked down with disgust at Roderich, who was dripping all over his purple coat and looking as if he were about to faint.

"I want to see him."

Ludwig stuffed the blanket in a second time. "You can't see him, but you can hear him moaning. Oh, you've just made the wish. He's shrinking. His bones are snapping and bending into gruesome shapes. He's growing all plump and feathery."

"Mmph, lovely."

At that moment, Roderich Edelstein lifted his head and saw Gilbert's beak-like nose poking out of the blankets.

 _"_ _You,"_ he hissed, pushing himself up on trembling arms and clambering to his feet.

"His voice hasn't changed yet. But he's scratching at his throat now with, er, what used to be his arms. They're fluffing up now. And—"

"I want paragraphs!"

"I can't give you paragraphs. It's happening too fast. Er, now he's started to grow even plumper."

At this delightful notion, Gilbert struggled to lift his head. He met the furious gaze of Edelstein, who was still fully human and not at all pleased.

"This is one of those frustrating dreams. Come on! I command you to turn into a chicken! Cluck-cluck-cluck! Peck-peck-peck!"

"You're not dreaming," Edelstein said, and to prove his point, he pulled a pair of sewing shears from his purse and looked eager to plunge them into Gilbert's heart. Ludwig kicked him back into the frozen dust.

Gilbert shivered in shock before frantically gasping for words. "So this is real and not nonsense? What does he mean by calling you cousin?"

"Well, we aren't cousins any more, now are we?" Edelstein coughed.

"You're not the Duke of Edelweiss, either," Ludwig jabbed. "You stole that title from Otto after you killed him. He was the Duke of Liutberht. And now that I know where I come from, I can say I'm Liutberht, and you're absolutely nothing but a cold-hearted, merciless _coward."_

"You? The Duke of Liutberht? When you strike your only living relative and carry around the most evil creature in existence like he's your _friend?_ How plebeian! _"_

"He is my _brother,_ and I am the cursed dog-man. And if you ever think what you did to Otto or any of the others is justified, whether you hate changelings or you hate the curse that took your family from you, we will take back Liutberht, and I will take my title, and maybe you'll really find yourself plumping and feathering."

Edelstein gasped and dug his nails into his collar.

"I'll be keeping the ring."

He then had to flee the scene, as the voice of Elizaveta had come close enough, and Ludwig didn't need to reveal himself to anyone else, especially not a violent sort of woman. In his mind, Otto had been avenged in all ways necessary. There was nothing more Ludwig could do without being utterly cruel and monstrous, and even this had been too cruel and monstrous for his own tastes. He really needed to get home, away from everything. Forget the past three months and the past twenty years and become a friendly baker. A cursed baker, but a friendly one.

His wishful thinking, however, was not to last.

Gilbert had heard everything.

"Was that the _real_ Edelstein?" He coughed.

 _"_ _Ja."_

"What was that all about? I can listen. My stomach is boiling, and it hurts to speak."

"I don't know him, and you don't have to worry about him being my cousin. All we share is blood… _Scheiße!"_

Gilbert pressed his scarred, wrinkled lips into a thin line and glowered, offended, up at his brother's awkward expression. Woozily, he continued to choke out his words.

"You are going to explain _everything."_

"No, go to sleep. You would hate me if you knew. More than that, you would probably die of despair. I'm not accepting it, anyway. I don't care if Fate won't be tested. Besides, if I take it, then what would any of his sacrifice be for? Three hours, battered and scarred, trudging through the snow, just to save my life so I could save your life. It's _not_ fiction. It's _not_ some fairy tale. It's my story, and if I become a du—"

His boots scuffed the frozen mud.

Gigi wished for him to become a duke. He was left in the snow to die. Fritz saved his life. He had come of age. He had met his cousin face-to-face. Fate was not to be tested. The wish was coming true.

"NOOO!"

"Ludwig, you explain yourself! I could be dying, and you're not making any sense! Sure, I might hate you! I hate you just for joking about _sharing blood_ with Roderich Edelstein! I hate you for not letting me curse him earlier! He's right there! I have my flute! I could at least do to him what I did to Fancy Francy Pants! Ohh, it's getting worse… "

Ludwig dug his father's ring out of his pocket and threw it away again. It reappeared in his pocket again. He repeated. It reappeared. He forced it past his teeth and swallowed it. It materialized between his fingers, cold and dry. In his mind, a cruel, shrill voice was laughing, and sharp fingernails were poking him.

"Stop jostling me. I'm fragile. Is that Edelstein's ring? You can't just brandish that around. It's burning me… "

"I can't get rid of it."

"We don't want to get rid of it. I can't look at it, but I'm still going to display it somewhere."

In an emotional huff, Ludwig sat Gilbert's sickly form under a tree. He placed the bird in the nest of his fuzzy white hair and began to feed him from the sack.

Then he told Gilbert everything.

And Gilbert began to die of despair.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Foul: wicked. Faul: Lazy (German) Fowl: A plump, feathered** **birb.**

 **"Grape Leaves" is now complete! Go read to find out what happens to Lovino at Straffino!**

 **Published on FanFiction . net by Syntax-N January 30th, 2019. Reposters will be cursed.**


	71. True Nature

When the sandy mound known as Ruby Island was free of all red squirrels and vestiges of shore lunch, (because he had eaten every last one,) he threw himself into the lake and was carried by the turbulent, windswept waves to the mainland. Here he dragged himself along, aching for nourishment, but without the strength to take it. Not ten yards inland from a spindly arm of the lake, he collapsed, and his frail body admonished him.

Hunger and pain. They squeezed and burned and tore away at his insides. His stomach boiled and clenched. Hot patches of flesh bubbled and distorted on his hands. Bones suddenly jerked and shifted, changing without any real motive or reason.

He knew little on the concept of death, but could these be its throes? Was he dying? And why did he have to die? What was this searing, tingling energy deforming his features and trying to claw its way out? Why was he powerless against it? He had been able to control it before…

He tried to scream, but his throat was too dry to create more than a squeaky twittering. One clawed hand clutched his shrunken abdomen and the other dug into the patch of damp earth he'd fallen into. All he could hear were his rapid breathing and his erratic heartbeat and the grinding of his bones. The strange power turned his vision a blinding blue, and he suddenly felt very hollow inside. It was as if he were sinking. Some pleasant cold in the earth was enveloping him and turning him to murky, intangible darkness.

Even then, he was afraid. He forced his fingers to move and dig deeper into the soil. Anguish shot up every nerve and lit up every fiber of his languishing being. Reflexively, he curled up around his empty stomach, the source of all this agony, and wept. He was going to die here. It might as well be quick.

Another was weeping, too.

His eyes, like blue nebulae, opened and swelled. His ears twitched in curiosity. The sound came from beyond the wild grasses and trees mere yards from where he lay dying. With an effort that twisted his quivering muscles, he pushed himself up to see. His feeble heart trembled in the hope of sustenance.

He saw a beautiful little creature facing the lake and pouting. Velvety brown ears hung dejected under waves of pale-amber hair. Lilac eyes observed the waves with a sparkling sheen of tears. Arms and hands were graceful. Legs and hooves were strong and durable.

And the moment he saw this creature, his eyes watered, and his throat clenched. He looked down at his own pallid skin. It was warping into bluish pustules that bled and spurted flames of black, gossamer mist. He was pure _ugliness_. But this creature? This was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It must have been a forest nymph or a great protector of the land. The animals probably adored it. The trees probably embraced it.

But nothing loved him.

His fangs tore into his lip in anger. With all his remaining strength, he would become like this creature. He would don its flawless skin and innocent, dewy eyes. He would be beautiful, too!

He closed his mouth and focused his fanatical thoughts. He hungered for whatever divine food this godly being ate. He craved the love it received from every part of nature. Slowly yet surely, his repulsive form ceased its shadowy evaporation. With a new agony, an agony masked by greed and desperation, his stringy muscles began to swell. His skin smoothed and his hair thickened and his eyes lightened. His body stretched, squelching, and a second pair of sturdy legs split from the first to support his proliferating weight. Silky fur sprung up over his haunches and pushed into a stubby tail. Fangs flattened, and ears pinched as they widened into delicate petal shapes.

All his energy had been used up in this transformation. He felt so weak as if to explode into shadowy particles all together. But his mind would not let him die any further. He felt… happy. Happier than he had ever felt. Happy enough to smile and laugh. He was beautiful! Now the world would love him, too! All he needed to do was eliminate the being whose shape he'd taken!

He gurgled in his throat, but forced himself to stay silent so as not to disturb his victim. He picked up a pointed stone and judged the beautiful creature's head from a distance. With these new, strong arms, one throw may do the trick—

* * *

"Al? Al!?"

"What?" Alfred whimpered, turning to face his brother. Why was this a night for sharing a room with Matthew? Oh yes, because he thought the bed in Arthur's room would make a better nest than the floor, and Arthur had given an eloquent rebuttal on having his shoulder slashed open in a previous life and retaining the knotted tissue into this one.

Matthew looked horrified. He clutched one of Alfred's hands in his own and showed him the reason for his distress. His claw-like nails were fully-developed, and his skin was draining of color. Small _cricks_ accompanied the thinning of the bones.

"I was going to tell you to stop digging your claws into me, but your whole hand is changing! Are you doing this on purpose!?"

"No," Alfred said tersely. He lay back down and gripped his sweat-soaked pillow, stretching his hand back to normal. It was another of these sessions. He woke up, tried to suppress his hunger, and let his mind inevitably wander to some wildly inappropriate place for three in the morning. This time, it just happened to be the vivid memory of turning savage and nearly murdering Matthew before he even met him.

Now was the time to reveal his deepest secret to the one it concerned.

"Al, you were whimpering about something. You can tell me what's bothering you. I'll listen."

"Of course you will."

"Is it the same thing bothering you when you wanted to talk to me the other night?"

"Um… yeah."

"So what is it?"

"Just that I've done horrible things, and I think you should know I'm not completely good. W'll, no one's completely good. Everyone's a mixture, and my evil parts are pretty darn evil."

"You're far from evil, Alfie. Didn't you just tell Feliciano tonight about feeling good because people care about you?"

"They didn't always care so much."

"Al, please forgive me. I know I was mean, but that doesn't mean I hated you then or hate you now. You're my brother."

"It's not about you kicking me out of Dinsmoor."

"Then what is this about? Why are you so down on yourself all of a sudden? A few hours ago, you felt like the luckiest guy in the world. A true _hero._ What's wrong? Alfred…?"

"Matthew… the first time I ever saw you… I wanted to kill you."

"What?"

"I thought you were a forest god or something. I thought everything in the forest loved you, and I craved that never-ending love. I craved it enough to use my last bit of energy to take your shape and pick up a stone that I was gonna throw at your head…"

Matthew was silent. Alfred brought his eyes up to meet those of his brother. There was no clear emotion in his face. Alfred scrutinized every feature, but even his power of observation failed to reveal what Matthew was thinking.

* * *

It was the sound of someone screaming. Or was it howling? Roaring? Screeching? Twittering? The young one had never heard anything like it before. No animal he'd ever encountered made such an awful sound.

"A _beast,_ papa!" He whined, scampering around on his hooves and throwing himself behind his father's flank. The bull had only come moments before. He had been searching for his son for hours only to find him pouting near a dangerous, rocky part of the shore. Then the terrible noise had started. It sounded so horribly close! Close enough to reveal its owner as a wild cougar or a pack of wolves or a—

The little one stopped his fearful imaginings when his father lifted brave, heavy hooves and stepped over to the source of the noise. He parted the grasses with one leg and peered surprised at the ground. Then he turned and addressed his son:

"It's not a beast. It's a calf, and he has a broken leg."

He trotted over and gasped. It _was_ a calf making such a horrid noise! The poor thing lay splayed out on his side. His legs were stiff, and his fingers clawed into the earth in pain. Little bleeding sores dotted his body. His muscles quivered and spasmed as he cried. Just as the bull had said, his right back leg was bent funny. The whitish fur was split open down near the hoof, and blood stained the soil beneath it.

The young one's father bent down on his front knees and stroked the calf's side. He screamed even louder. Incomprehensible phrases escaped his throat — too wild to sound like real words. Then the calf hid his head in his arms and whimpered inconsolably.

With a mighty heave, the bull reached under the calf's belly and lifted him. His broken leg dangled gruesomely, and his other legs kicked out awkwardly in all directions.

"Run on to the village, Matthew. We have to clean him up and bind his leg. He can stay in our house tonight."

The young one nodded and ran on as fast as his spindly legs could take him. He never noticed the deep gashes in the earth or the bloodied stone or the strange, dancing behavior of the shadows.

* * *

In the absence of communication, Alfred explained how he'd felt on that day. He described the hunger and how it made his insides feel like they were splitting and burning away. He told of the weakness that sharpened his senses until he could hear his dying heartbeat growing slower in his chest. He remembered his magical pulse getting feebler until he couldn't feel it at all, then exploding like a star and tearing its way out of him in shadowy suppurations.

"And then I saw you, and it was my first instinct to transform. It was excruciating pain, but I couldn't feel it at all. All I could focus on was you. I just picked up the first stone I saw, and I was going to do it before your father arrived. I just… saw how much he loved you, and then I thought if I killed you, he would kill me."

"So your broke your own leg with the stone so we would give you attention," Matthew murmured.

Alfred nodded. He put a hand over his heart and focused. A radiant pulse rushed within him. It was almost unrecognizable. The same magic had been so unstable in his childhood. Starving it had put him on his deathbed. It was a miracle that transforming in such a state hadn't finished him off.

"Changelings have two basic needs. We need to eat, and we need to be loved. I don't think we can live as long as other fairies, but as long as we're well-fed and well-loved, we can live through our sickness in whatever shapes we please. If I don't fulfill those needs, my magic will destroy me, and I'll turn into a shadow. But the hunger can make me do terrible things. Er, I wanted to do something terrible…"

Right then, Alfred's stomach decided to gurgle noisily. He frowned in frustration and buried himself under the blanket.

"If you're hungry, we should go find something to eat," Matthew said. His voice was flat and without its characteristic softness or smoothness.

"What if I'd done it? Would I even still be here if you weren't?"

"I _am_ here, Alfred," Matthew cut. "And I… I don't know what to think of this. It's not gonna make me stop seeing you as my brother, but at the same time… this is what I mean when I say I'm frustrated with knowing you now. Is it also a changeling's need to keep secrets? Do you mask your true nature out of habit? If what you said is true, and you did want to kill me, then why did you lie about it? What else are you hiding about yourself?"

"Nothing! It was just that little detail."

"It's _not_ a little detail."

"I knew you'd say that."

"No, it's not a little detail, and yes, it does shock me, but I'm trying my best to understand you all the time, and if you aren't truthful with me, it makes you even more difficult to understand."

"What would life be like?"

"You wouldn't be the same person you are now. Look, Al, it's way too late to talk about this, but you _didn't_ kill me. We're both still here, and you're a hero. You learned from your mistakes just like I did."

Alfred relaxed his shoulders. "Yeah, I guess I did tell Feli all that crap about experiences and choices making up a person's character. I want to be good. I want to prove the world wrong. But before I chose that path, I gave in to my dark nature."

"No you didn't. That's why I'm still here. You were good from the start."

Alfred wiggled under the blanket. He poked his head out and eyed Matthew with a mischievous grin. "Well, when you put it that way, it doesn't hurt as much. But are you afraid of me? What I'm capable of? It's okay if you are."

Matthew yawned. "I'm annoyed by your dishonesty, but I'm not gonna spite you for the way you behaved when you were young. Anyone who does something like that should be ashamed. I'm happy that you're alive, and I know you feel the same."

* * *

He awoke suddenly with firelight flickering in his eyes. Another scream bubbled up from his aching gut, and he let it howl through the evening calm. He kicked and thrashed and squeezed something soft between his fingers. There was a stinging, poking sensation in his leg. One of his legs? Four legs? He wasn't dead?

"It's okay. It's okay. Hush. You're safe here."

He looked up through watery eyes and saw the same beautiful face of the one he'd been so desperate to kill. Did that mean…? He looked back and saw the hooves and furry hindquarters. He was wearing the beautiful nymph's features! Why did the nymph smile in his presence?

He realized quickly that his features were not entirely identical to those of the beautiful one. His hair was more of a sandy-gold color, and he lacked the little leaf-shaped patch of fur on his leg. But just moving to see himself was painful. His stomach (stomachs?) still protested. His mind was hazy, and his body was weak. The hot energy pushed upwards and relaxed again. This shape was stronger, he assured himself. _He_ was stronger.

But he had wanted to kill that creature! With a rush of terrible guilt and rampant emotion, he began crying again. Taking a life so he would live! He had done it before with fish and squirrels, but this creature was beautiful and beloved! This creature could speak, and his voice was so whispery and helpless! How could he think of committing such a dastardly act?

His ears twitched at the snipping of thread. With one push, he looked to see the leg he'd fractured now lay pinioned in a binding of sticks and cloth. The fur was wet, and the muscles pulsed, but it was no longer bleeding.

"If you need more blankets, I can get them for you. Or some food."

"Food!" He screeched. He dug his fingers into his belly, then realized there was a strange new place throbbing under his legs with the same hunger pangs. More than one stomach! More to be satisfied!

"Drink this first. It's a potion. It'll help with the pain."

The beautiful creature passed him a little bottle which he instantly gulped down. It fizzed in his mouth and bubbled in his throat. He ran his tongue over his lips and realized their swollen, eroded texture from frequent chewing had healed and smoothed over again. Within minutes, the extra aching in his muscles melted away. Now he could appreciate the softness of the "blanket" between his fingers and savor the taste of a thing called "porridge" that the beautiful creature spooned up for him. He ate and ate until his host said there was nothing more.

He eyed the place he lay in. The forest was hidden behind a barrier made of logs squeezed together and stuffed with moss and clay. The sky was obscured by a webbing of reeds and straw all bunched and knotted up in bundles. At one end of this man-made cave was a roaring fireplace, and at the other end, where he lay, was a great pile of straw draped with blankets and cushions. Deep indents marked that huge beings slept here.

"Who are you?" He finally asked when the calming scent of pine smoke lulled him into a sleepy stupor.

"I'm Matthew. What's your name?"

His _name?_ No one had ever asked for his name before. He'd forgotten the word had a purpose. He could just as easily believe his name was "imp" or "elf-rat."

"Alfred," he said, marveling over how similar it was to "elf-rat." Oh dear, had he misinterpreted it and his name was truly "elf-rat?"

"Alfred, eh? And where do you come from? How'd you end up so close to Dinsmoor?"

"Where… I come from? From… everywhere."

"Everywhere? You don't have a home?"

He shook his head.

The other recoiled suddenly. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't realize you were a nomad! You must have a family then? Or a mother?"

He didn't know what "nomad" meant, nor "family." But he knew "mother," and he knew he didn't have one of those. His mind raced. What did he say to this question? If he really were the being he masqueraded as, it would be natural to have a mother.

"A bear attacked her. She told me to run. I ran, but it bit my leg. It bit my leg…" He trailed off and melted into tears again, using his guilt as a springboard for his emotions.

"Oh, eh, don't cry! My father and the elders can search for her! We're all excellent rescuers! We can find her for you! There, there."

He pulled another blanket over Alfred's quivering form. Alfred peered up at those lilac eyes, so full of life and cheerfulness. He thanked the whole earth and the stars above that the one called Matthew was safe. He was so kind and so gentle. Something inside Alfred quivered and grew. Was this feeling… the reception of love? Was he being loved for the first time? It felt so warm and natural. This was why he lived — to be loved.

"What do I do until then?" Alfred asked quietly. Internally, he asked himself if these half-furry giants would accept him as one of their own forever.

"Until you get back to your mother, you can be part of our family here in Dinsmoor. You could be… you could be my brother! My brother by heart! You do look really similar to me!"

Alfred hid his face, but he wanted so much to smile and laugh and thank Matthew for everything. _Brother._ That was a good word. A warm word. Some of the fishermen had been brothers.

He decided he would be Matthew's brother.

* * *

"I really love you, bro," he said.

Matthew smiled tiredly. "Me too. I'm really proud of you."

"Can I… Do you think I can come home with you? Back to Dinsmoor? Now that I've fulfilled my heroic destiny, a new chapter begins."

"You aren't going back to your school?"

"No way. That place isn't for me. Besides, you're my family. I wanna go where you go. I think a huge part of my heart will still live in that friendly freezer of a state, though. "

After a minute, Matthew nodded. "Yes, you can come home with me. Only, I want you to be yourself when we get there."

"Which means…"

"No secrets. Appear as a Homoalces if you'd like, but you're really a magical being. You'd better act like one."

"Dinsmoor had better be ready for mischief," Alfred chuckled. Then his stomach growled like a beast again. He clutched his middle and winced. "You up for a three a.m. snack?"

"Sure."

The two of them crept down the darkened hallway in search of one thing only: Francis' muffins. He had made them as a token of friendship for Feliciano and Lovino to enjoy. A conversation-starter for years forth would be the strangeness with which Kiku regarded his own muffin. He had stroked it, picked it up, tasted it, swallowed cautiously as if it were dangerous, and then winced when he felt his stomach contract at the first food it had received in centuries.

There were, of course, leftovers. These were hidden away in two baskets — one in Francis' room and one in Feliciano's. Knowing full well the repercussions of disturbing one emotionally enfeebled Allegrian, the two brothers made their way to Francis' room and knocked.

They were answered almost immediately. Francis cracked the door open and poked his fowlish beak toward them. His room was lit up in eerie candlelight, and in his hand was a glass of red wine.

"Can I help you two?" He squawked before taking a sip.

"Aw, Arts was right! You _are_ an alcoholic!"

"Alfred, don't be rude!"

"Sorry. May I have a muffin, please? Or five? I am utterly famished."

"If only you spoke in such a way when Arthur was around," the feathered knight snapped. He handed Alfred the basket of muffins and promptly closed the door on the changeling boy's smirk.

He then took another long draft of wine and returned his gaze to the desk in his room. No, he was _not_ an alcoholic, whatever the sour sprite may think! The wine may have dulled his senses, but it also opened his mind. And it _protected_ him, though that was a subject no one could ever know about, including that damn demon, because _he_ was exactly the thing the wine protected against.

On the desk was an open book — a little journal bound in sheaves of dried oak leaves and decorated with owl feathers. The book had burned in his pocket again. It hadn't done so in days. He thought that for once it would leave him alone forever, but this time the burning had been particularly intense. The Master was waiting…

He opened the cover, indulging in another long, intoxicating drink. His vision swirled. A place on his left wrist began to pinch. Ink bled up from the pages and formed itself into words written in a curt, serious hand.

 _What a mess._

"A mess," Francis repeated.

 _I say this in amusement. Do not be alarmed. Your endeavor is successful. Feliciano is free. Gilbert cries out in childish disappointment, and Ludwig is adamant in never setting his sights on the amulet again. Well done, Mercs of My Messy Hand._

"What, then?" The knight ground. His words formed on the page and dissolved. It was a demon book, enchanted for communication between vast distances. He cursed himself for opening it, but it had been delivered to him by a tawny owl, and what ignorant official of Amotoile wouldn't inspect such an artifact?

 _You're being as petulant as ever. I hate to repeat myself, but you might as well be civil. You are mine."_

"I never was yours."

The stinging in his wrist intensified. There was a tiny _squelch,_ and he pulled his sleeve back to see the tiny gray quill embedded in the skin had pushed itself just a millimeter deeper. The bruise around it darkened, and a fresh bead of poison in his blood caused the muscles of his arm to go completely numb and limp.

"I haven't done your bidding. You've given me nothing to accomplish. I'm just doing my work as a knight. Protecting Feliciano is my duty."

 _A duty that I gave you. You know the letters were mine from the beginning. You_ do _have a task. Now that Ludwig is broken and Gilbert is weak, you must take Feliciano home so he can find his precious amulet_. _Or follow him if you want to avoid suspicion. When he does find it, you will take it and bring it to me. My smaller possessions have already pilfered the wand from Gilbert._ "

"And then I will finally see your face?"

 _We shall see._

"I'd really like to. I've imagined you as many things. A bloodthirsty demon, a bloodthirsty demon's mother, some cursed monster like the dog-man… But all I ever see of you is this cursed book and this quill in my wrist that I can't pull out. What are you? You can't be human."

 _Human? No, that word wouldn't fit me. Perhaps I was human years ago, but then I became so much more. My "human" vessel doesn't even age! I can take the forms of eagles, owls, rabbits, soil, rocks, and trees. I reside in all my possessions, including you. I can force the poison quill deeper into your arm. I can kill you right now, or you can bring me the power of the_ sogno, _and I'll reward you greatly. Upon your arrival, you'll get ten vials of the most potent_ Enthüllung _ever made. Black as the runoff from the factories it was made from._

"I don't want the _Enthüllung."_

 _You can't love changelings. I can see you still don't. You think that boy Alfred is an exception, but even then your mind wavers. Uncertainty is a scourge on the mind. Extinguish it._

"You've decided that _you_ cannot love changelings! Then what is your secret? You want to kill Gilbert? You've spoken so passionately about him in the past."

 _I do not want to kill Gilbert. I'm his Fate. My purpose is to cause him misfortune._

"Why?"

 _He did something unforgivable to someone I love, and his predecessor did something unforgivable to me._

"Then you seek revenge."

 _Revenge. What a vulgar word. A word that Gilbert himself uses only to mean little deeds done for his own satisfaction. My work is punishment. I am a confident authority, not a victim whinging for compensation._

Francis narrowed his eyes at the book. If he had teeth, he would've clenched them. "I get sent on a mission to stop such great power from falling into the wrong hands, and yet there's someone even worse controlling the whole affair. Some _thing_ worse. I've had so many sleepless nights. I've made everyone suspicious of me. I lash out at my companions and tell them it's my worst fear to be a traitor because I know it's what I truly am! I have to _lie_ to them! And all because you are _forcing_ me to—"

He felt the quill press deeper. When it had first lodged itself in his wrist, the whole spike of it had been visible. Now only a grayish nub remained above the surface. He felt the stinging poison warm his arm from the inside. There was a writhing, burning feeling, and his shoulder and chest numbed. His head pulsed with drowsiness. He took the wine glass and dribbled the drink down the sides of his inconveniently-shaped mouth.

 _Make one wrong move, and you'll never wake again. Or, if you prefer your consciousness, I could stop giving you the powder to put into your wine, and the demon will see all your dirty secrets. Rumors would spread, as they do. The republic would find another man suited for knighthood to replace you. And what's a rich man without weapons and authority? Changeling bait._

"No! No! _Pourquoi est-ce que vous êtes si méchant!?_ "

 _Take the amulet in your hands and walk forward. Your world will shift. You think you'll be going one way, but you'll really be going another. The place you'll want to go is far from where you'll end up. This is my power over my possessions. They always return to me. If you don't desire_ Enthüllung, _I'll give you something else. I'll give you powers. I'll let you have a wish. I'll take away that memory of the monster crawling out from under your bed and warping into your image when you were a child. And the one of the horrendous half-blood you met on your first day of school._

"If I must die to stop such an evil from getting its hands on the amulet, it would be honorable!"

A jerking laughter cut through his mind. _You think I'm evil,_ the book said.

"What else would you be called for using someone? You use me like Ludwig used Feliciano. Why use me instead of Feliciano himself? Why aren't _you_ out enacting your plans on your own!?"

 _Because I could foresee Gilbert beguiling Feliciano into total loyalty, and when this failed due to my mercenaries, there could not be a chance he would allow his guard to drop again. Unlike you, Feliciano is surprisingly strong-willed. And why do I not enact my own plans? I wISH I cOuLD, fOOL._ _Now, get some rest and be prepared to journey to Allegria when the sun rises. Oh, wait, this is curious… Stupid, overgrown pigeon! Stop preening yourself and fly down there! I want to see! Show me the man! Good. Now_ you! _Tell me again what you heard… Oh, how interesting. I should've known._

Francis thought right then of taking the candle and lighting the little book on fire, but the ink suddenly turned even blacker and angrier.

 _IN THE MORNING, THE TRUE DUKE OF EDELWEISS WILL ARRIVE. YOU WILL PLACE MY BOOK IN HIS POCKET BEFORE HE LEAVES YOU. IF YOU WANT NOTHING FROM ME, SO BE IT. DO THIS ONE TASK, AND YOU SHALL BE FREE. GO HOME TO YOUR WIFE, COWARD._

He nearly choked on his wine at the last sentence. This fiend had wriggled its claws deeper into his life than he'd ever imagined!

"And if I don't?"

The ink said simply:

 _I'll be your Fate as well._

* * *

 **~N~**

 **I'm particularly proud of this chapter! I've wanted to play with creepy Gothic vibes for a while. Special shout-outs to StrongPanda and Mely-Val for pointing out something seemed very suspicious about one of our Mercs. And a big thank you to all who have read this far and supported the story over the past TWO YEARS!**

 **Ruby Island is a real island in northwest Ontario populated only by red squirrels and the occasional shore-lunchers.**

 **Published by Syntax-N on Fanfiction . net February 17th, 2019. Reposters will be cURsEd.**


	72. Back Where it All Began

Feliciano shifted on the stool. He stared into the eyes of the freakish creature before him. It was the shell of a man — thin and tired and pale. Its eyes looked so… _dark._ They were a dull shade of brown without a single pinprick of stardust to light them. When Feliciano brought himself forward to search for just a sparkling granule, he bonked his nose on the mirror.

"Can't you just sing to make yourself feel better?" Lovino snapped from behind him.

"I don't think it would work."

"What do you mean, you don't think it would work? It always works! Your voice is so powerful, it could make a small country stupid with bliss!"

"But I wouldn't _feel_ it. Magic comes from the heart. It's passion that makes spells work in your favor. But right now, I feel… nothing. Maybe I could trick myself into feeling better, but without any strong positive emotions, my spell wouldn't last. I'm not happy, and I'm not even feeling courageous or hopeful."

The elder fairy stood between Feliciano and his reflection. He knelt and placed his hands on his brother's shoulders. "At least stop looking at yourself. You look… what's the human word? 'Sick?'"

Feliciano rubbed his eyes. "Alfred said I shouldn't get myself down, but every time I think about what happened, I just feel so awful inside. My throat really hurts. Oh no, Lovi, am I dying!? Am I losing my magic!?"

Lovino playfully pulled his brother's head to his chest. "The wingless bastard said you're healthy. Just stop thinking about what happened. That _monster_ is gone from our lives. We'll never see him again. Every step we take toward Allegria is a step in the right direction."

"I want to go to school."

"Eh? Why do you say that all of a sudden?"

"I know I said I would never go because I didn't want you to feel jealous and hate yourself, but my power is starting to scare me. If this is what happens when my emotions get out of control, I could do terrible things to myself or to others! Singing a happy song could make a small country happy. What about a sad song? Remember Grandpa's funeral? I made everyone's wings wilt, and I was only six years old."

"You're not an evil fairy—"

"It's not about being good or evil. I couldn't sleep last night because I was thinking about this so much. The point is, in a world where fairies are so much weaker than they used to be, I have the potential to be extremely powerful, and I'm growing toward that potential all the time. Grandpa didn't live long enough to teach me everything. I barely know anything about how my power works or how to control it when it gets too strong. I could be dangerous…"

"But you didn't destroy yourself last night."

Feliciano pulled away. He rubbed his throat with a worried look. "I didn't destroy myself last night because Alfred had to tell me to stop belittling myself. I never even realized just _speaking_ could work magic." He looked at his brother sadly. "I'm nineteen. Grandpa Roma could sing water vapor into thunder clouds by my age. It's time. I have to go and get a real magical education before I end up blowing something up or killing someone with sorrow. I felt true sorrow last night. It was so horrible. I know emotions have to be balanced, but I never want to feel that way again."

For a while, Lovino was silent. It was selfish, Feliciano thought, but then again, he felt selfish as well. He'd seen the look on Lovino's face when he'd gotten expelled. Lovino had told him it was his worst fear to see his music-casting brother blot out his very existence with his rare and amazing talent. And Feliciano had promised he would never go to school just to make his big brother happy. But now… now Feliciano was scared.

"You're a legend at that school anyway, Lovi. I hear there are still classrooms with vines twisting around the walls. I'll have a destiny and a legacy, but so will you."

"But… what's my destiny?" Lovino whispered.

Feliciano cracked a tired smile. "You're going to expand the vineyards until they reach the horizon, and you're going to have the biggest wild botanical garden in Allegria, and you're going to be a husband and a papà who tells his kids all about the time he got so angry at his headmistress he made vines and leaves grow over every inch of her school."

"I'm not so sure about that last part."

"I knew you were in love!"

"Eh? With who? What? When did I say that?"

"You don't remember? It was last night! You told us all how you wanted to marry—"

"Terribly sorry to interrupt, but there is someone here who demands to see you, Feliciano," Arthur said as he swung open the door.

Feliciano's teasing smirk ceased. Again, he was the portrait of stoic moping. He narrowed his brows and said very seriously, "Tell that monster of a man I never want to see him again."

Arthur opened his mouth, but he was promptly shoved out of the way by someone completely unexpected. The wild woman known as Elizaveta Héderváry burst into the room and threw her arms around Feliciano, cooing.

"Felice! It's been so long since I've seen you! You're not actually in danger, are you? I always thought he was lying. How could business in Amotoile have to do with visiting old friends?"

Coming out of his shock, Feliciano raised his arms and cautiously squeezed back. "Miss Elizaveta?"

"You're not a child anymore. It's Eliza or Lizzy."

 _"_ What are you doing here?

She was about to answer, but she had just pulled away from her hug to see the face of her young friend. Instantly, her smile dropped.

"What happened to you? Who did this? Tell me where to find this evil—"

"There's no evil," Feliciano said. "Not anymore. I'm sorry I look so sick. It's been a really awful last couple of days."

"But fairies can't get sick, right?"

"Oh, I'm not sick. I'm just… very sad." It hurt to do so, but he lifted his crinkly wings and tried to shake them a bit. Lovino turned away.

"Very sad? How could you be sad at all? Why are you two here, and what is this 'evil' Roderich has been going on about? He won't tell me anything, as usual, and it just keeps getting more confusing."

"Eh? Herr Edelstein is here, too? Where is he? Take me to him! I can explain everything, but I want to know his side of the story as well!"

"Story? There's a story here?"

Feliciano nodded, his features taking on a rare, fierce note of determination. _"Sì,_ the story of the dark wizard Gilbert."

The woman stretched her face in surprise. "Gilbert? What has he got to do with any of this? All I know is that he robbed Gutshaus Edelweiss not too long ago. Roderich said it was one of his changeling allies who locked him in his closet again."

Feliciano went to the door and beckoned. "The dark wizard Gilbert has no allies except the dog-man. Roderich must have lied to you. The Gilbert I saw was wearing his shape for a while. Ah, there he is!"

They had come into the room with the square table to find Edelstein sitting on one side and shaking as if frightened. Arthur now sat beside him trying to dodge a flurry of insults while inspecting the duke's broken nose. He tapped a few fingers along the skin and didn't even flinch when the cartilage _cricked_ and Edelstein howled in pain.

"Sorry bloke, you are. Tripping on a root and landing square on the nose? I'm surprised more of your face wasn't torn up. Are you _sure_ you weren't assaulted?"

"I was _not_ assaulted. It was all that horrid tree root's fault. It kicked itself up out of nowhere."

"Out of nowhere? By magic, perhaps?"

"No, not by magic. Does everything have to be magic? The bane of my existence, that's what magic is. It's undignified and undeserving of all the ogling it gets."

"Did you see anyone at the moment you were attacked by this tree root? Any dark figures or cackling shadows? Were you hit by any mysterious, glittering projectiles?"

"There was no magic," Edelstein hissed.

"At any time recently, have you suffered from inexplicable nausea or abdominal pain?"

"I don't see what that has to do with a broken nose."

"It's one of the first signs that one is inflicted with a transformative curse."

This statement silenced Edelstein's protesting. He merely huffed and shrank into himself, shooting the magician a look of contempt that stopped his incessant questioning. Arthur looked puzzled, but Feliciano moved in next to them and placed a reassuring hand on his former tutor's back.

He could have given a greeting or a remark on how good it was to see him again, but Feliciano only had one topic of interest on his mind. His felicity was recovering its strength, leaving only seriousness in its place.

"Are you the one who wrote those letters, and did the dark wizard Gilbert attack you because of it? Did he come to take your shape so he could move his operation along easier? Or do you not remember? How did you know to come here, and did he attack you when you arrived?"

"I cannot say!" Edelstein barked, slamming a hand on the table and standing to glare down at the fairy. His eyes burned, and his chest heaved.

Feliciano's eyes traveled from the violet anger down to the hand on the table — the right one. It lacked its usual iron ring and was without even a glove. This lack of covering revealed a gruesome sight. The hand itself was the source of all of Edelstein's shakiness. It trembled with such force that it seemed the man had no control over it.

"No… no way…" Feliciano whispered. "Your hand… I've seen it shake like that before."

All at once, Feliciano felt a throbbing sense of vertigo. He clapped a hand over his mouth and relived the repressed memory with a newfound sense of horror. It was several years ago now. He couldn't believe it had slipped so far back into his mind, but here it was. He could see the sunlight streaming through the windows. He could feel the aching in his back and he sting of splinters in his little hands.

* * *

He was sweeping in the north wing of the mansion. The chore wasn't necessary, as the dust had only been cleared away the day before, but it served as another punishment from his tutor. Feliciano had accidentally made the harpsichord float again. Magic was never allowed during scales practice, and although the little fairy had argued that he never realized he was working minor miracles, he was always forced to do extra chores afterward.

He squeaked when a mouse dashed out of a crack in the baseboard and jumped over his broom. He swatted at it with the bristles, but it scurried over to an opposite crack and squeezed inside before he could do much damage. Feliciano sighed. He shouldn't have felt so much responsibility, but now there were mice in the house as well as dust and cobwebs! How could Miss Elizaveta be in love with such a messy and miserable man?

He was pondering whether to ask Herr Edelstein why he was so miserable when the screams came from up a floor. Feliciano jumped and hovered in the air. His wings stirred up a coating of dust he'd missed last time.

He flew down the corridor past the bedroom with the dusty pearl necklaces and the starched, moth-eaten gowns that hung like ghosts in their wardrobe. (Feliciano had inquired so many times on these oddities, but with Edelstein's enigmatic responses, they remained only oddities.) He stifled his puzzlements. His tutor was in trouble! He found the staircase and flew up and up, tossing his broom aside to balance.

The screaming ceased.

A door slammed.

Someone sobbed.

Fearfully, he peeked around the corner. The door had been that of Edelstein's studio, where only moments before, he had been doing some important paperwork. Feliciano forced his hand over his mouth. A scream built up in his gut, and he cramped up straining to keep it there.

Sobbing so loudly and so miserably was a hideous creature. One clawed, withered hand scratched fissures into the floorboards while the other tore out bunches of wispy white hair. In some places, its deathly pale skin stretched so taut over the bones that it looked ready to tear, and in others, it wrinkled like it had aged far too quickly for its body. Blood-colored eyes bulged in distress, and crooked, pointed teeth dripped with saliva that stank of carrion and death.

It buried its face in its hands and wept bitterly as if it had just seen its reflection in a mirror. Feliciano shivered. His lips leaked, and a little squeal of terror escaped.

Knife-like ears twitched. The creature raised its head and brought itself, trembling, to its feet. It looked immediately to Feliciano. Its fangs dug into its scarred lips, drawing purple blood. And then it spoke in a gravelly, raspy voice:

"Go ahead."

"Eh!?" The fairy chirped.

"Go ahead. Scream. Run away. Tell me I'm the most hideous _thing_ you've ever seen, and that the whole world would be better off if my pure _ugliness_ were destroyed and forgotten. Tell me no one could ever love me!"

Feliciano just curled up into a ball and whimpered. He hadn't heard anything the creature had said.

The creature let this go and collected itself. It shrank into the shape of an eagle and used its beak to open the window before picking up a flute case in its talons and flying off. Feliciano, shuddering, picked himself up and walked over to the bedroom. He entered. The place was dark and deserted, save for the fireplace illuminating the pale face of Edelstein, who lay on the floor almost motionless.

"Herr Edelstein! What happened!? Was it that… that monster!? You're bleeding! I'll get help!"

"No, Felice," his master croaked. He stared into space with a haunted gleam in his eyes.

"You need help!"

And then his master's right hand began to shake feverishly. "Did you see him?" He asked.

"Yes!"

"Then forget you ever saw him. Put him out of your mind. He's only an… illusion, anyway. Every time I say he exists, no one believes me."

"Who is he?"

"His name is… oh, someone finally saw him! His name is… G—"

And then, inexplicably, Edelstein's pinky finger shattered in such a gruesome fashion that Feliciano really did put the whole incident out of his mind so as not to risk feeling sick when he thought about it.

* * *

"How could I have forgotten!? He attacked you when I was a kid! And you told me to forget about him! He _attacked_ you! You… you were bleeding because he _attacked_ you!"

"Who attacked him!? Elizaveta demanded.

"Gilbert!"

The exclamation hadn't come from Feliciano, nor had it come from Arthur, nor Alfred, nor Lovino, nor Yao, nor Ivan. It had come from Roderich Edelstein himself. And after its utterance, all were forced to watch as his shaking hand convulsed once, spasmed twice, and then utterly mangled itself as every bone shifted and dislocated and cracked like porcelain. The flesh hung limply as the trembling muscles finished wriggling.

Then, very calmly, he sat himself down again, his anguish only marked by a few bitter tears dripping onto the table before him.

"Dudes! He _is_ the letter writer! He just said our baddy's name, and oh, that was so _gross!"_ Alfred exclaimed.

"Now you understand how I feel whenever I watch you transform," Arthur said. The magician had turned positively green. He spent the next few minutes retching into the nearest toilet.

Elizaveta practically launched herself over to Roderich's side. "Gilbert? _Gilbert?_ The name of the menace that's haunted you for so long is Gilbert? But… but he's a dark wizard! H-how could he…"

"Gilbert's a changeling who pretends to be a dark wizard," Feliciano said. "He's ugly and evil, and he wanted to steal my magic amulet from me! He said something about using its power to curse Roderich!"

"Curse you?" Elizaveta cried. Then she slapped her ex-husband hard enough for his nose to bleed again. "I've hated the dark wizard Gilbert for years! And now you tell me he and the changeling menace who haunts you are one and the same!? You tell me the all-powerful Gilbert is a damned _changeling!?_ I could've hunted him down and _skewered_ him had I known that kind of secret!"

"Hey, hey, give the guy a break! You saw what happened when he said Gilbert's name! He broke every bone in his hand!" Alfred tried to reason. He'd gone quite pale himself after hearing of what Gilbert's fate could've been, but his heroic soul still pushed him out of his comfort zone.

"And who do you think you are?" She said, standing and sending him a terrible glare. "Who are all of you!? What do you know about any of this!?"

"A-ask him," Alfred sputtered, pointing at the duke. "Yeah, I'm… I'm gonna go do something normal and inconspicuous like, uh, go check on Arthur!" He finished, and threw himself out of the room.

Elizaveta softened a bit. She sighed and tried to reason with her temper. Next to her, Roderich Edelstein cried ceaselessly and tried wrapping up his hand in a silken handkerchief.

"Can you explain?" She asked him.

"I… don't know," he replied in between little wet gasps. "The first curse he ever inflicted me with was to make my hand break if I ever said his name, but it also made the bones crack or shift if I mentioned anything that would lead to others knowing his identity. I don't know if I can say anything more without the bones completely dissolving. It… hurts…"

"We need Arthur to try mending it. My magic is weak, and I wouldn't be able to overpower dark magic," Feliciano muttered.

"Well, we all know who Gilbert is now," Elizaveta huffed. "I just need to know all of the other details. I'm going to need all of you to help me understand this shitstorm."

"Whatever any of them tell you, I didn't write any letters," Edelstein wailed. "I was framed. Framed so _he_ would think it was me and come to attack me again."

"Ivan, go fetch Arthur," Francis commanded. "I'll help explain the situation."

It took a few hours. Feliciano was met with a strange sense of déjà vu when he told Edelstein of his adventures. Some parts were quite painful to recount, but knowing it was all over, there was a peculiar sense of closure with it all. In no way did Feliciano feel ready to forgive Ludwig for his actions, but he did find a modicum of strength to move on. He even found a bit of security in listening to the Mercs of the Messy Hand tell their parts of the story. He was proud of Alfred for admitting his changeling nature to Edelstein, even if he was a bit nervous. His brother, Matthew, helped him to gain confidence, and by the end, he was laughing and exaggerating his encounters with monsters as any great hero would.

"I think Luddy and I could be great pals. He really seems like a sweet guy underneath all that fur. I'll see if we can get in touch sometime in the future."

"A man who calls himself 'brother of a changeling,'" Edelstein murmured, frowning. His right hand was wrapped in a blanket. Arthur had fused most of the major bones back together and suspended the hand in an invisible veil of immobility and numbness. He warned that he couldn't remove the curse without a more in-depth examination, however, and Edelstein promptly refused anything that involved magic interfering with his body.

Alfred shivered. "Well, Gilbert raised him from a baby."

"You have no opinion, _imp."_

He said it with a tone of pure animosity. Alfred scooched back in his seat. Matthew narrowed his eyes and balled his fists, but Arthur held him back.

"I'm a good changeling," Alfred pouted. "I saved Feliciano."

"That is true! He did save me!" Feliciano reasoned. "He does deserve some sort of reward."

"I'm not giving out rewards. I didn't write these letters. The calligraphy is obviously forged, and this isn't even my smudged signature. Someone framed me because someone knows I'm afraid of _him_ and that _he_ can't stand me."

"Who could that possibly be?" Francis asked, leaning inward.

Edelstein scoffed. "How should I know? This is terrifying. It can't be anyone I know if this person knows the relationship between _he_ and I."

"What would this person's motive be?" Arthur asked. "At first glance, separating Feliciano from Gilbert could mean good intentions. This person wants to prevent a major catastrophe. Still, why blame Edelstein? Out of fear or out of spite?"

"Whatever the motive, it would seem as if the first mission has ended, and a new mission must begin," said Kiku.

"You're coming with me," Yao sniffed. "Ivan and I are beginning on our way to the capital this afternoon. No reward and no reason to continue. It was a scam from the beginning."

"You had to fall for it," Edelstein snorted.

"In the end, Feliciano is safe. Isn't that enough of a reward?" Francis said. "And here we are at the same square table discussing this. How excellent! We've all learned so much together."

Feliciano sighed. "I can taste the Allegrian wine already. It's the perfect time to go home."

"You are coming to Edelweiss first," the duke hissed. "There's no need for you to travel unprotected. I know the safest route."

"It's true you haven't visited in quite some time," Elizaveta said.

Feliciano stood. "Well, I… I suppose I could come visit. It's just… I really should be getting on to Allegria."

"You are not going anywhere where that _monster_ could find you again. I've lived long enough to know you can't trust anyone's word, and Gi— _his_ word is the last you should ever trust even if the world crumbles to dust and you're the last two miserable beings left. Elizaveta and I will take you to Edelweiss. At least that way, you'll be guarded by our personal… wizard skewer."

"It would be smart," Elizaveta agreed.

"Do what you want. I'm going to Allegria," Lovino snapped tiredly.

Feliciano shifted and twitched his wings. "I'll… I'll go to Edelweiss just to be safe. It would be nice to feel secure."

"Well, then it's settled," said Francis, standing and slapping his hand on the table. "Friends, enemies, memories. These are the things we have all made on our adventure, and—"

"There are many more to come. Yes, yes, Francis, bravo. Now, it would've been much more impressive if you'd had something to make a toast with," Arthur droned.

"Yeah, Francy, where's your wine?" Alfred smirked.

"I am not going to miss you two," the knight said as he glowered.

"I cannot wait to get back to my pretty kingdom of snow!" Ivan smiled. (He would later learn that quite an impressive revolt had taken place in his absence, and that half of his pretty kingdom had melted. At its helm were a smartly-clad wind demon and a nervous little water demon.)

The Mercs of the Messy Hand ended their campaign. Kiku accepted a hug from Feliciano before departing with Yao and Ivan. Lovino gave his brother an even tighter hug before leaving on his way to Allegria. This was perhaps the hardest goodbye, but Feliciano said he secretly feared for Edelstein's safety, and so the extension of his journey was unfortunate, but necessary.

Feliciano was packing up and about to leave when Sir Francis cornered him in his room.

"Feliciano, I am going to tell you something very important." His voice quavered. He trembled in place and fidgeted with one of his sleeves.

"Eh, what would that be?"

"The amulet. The _sogno._ When you find it, never let anyone take it from you. Guard it with your life. The world could depend on it."

Feliciano waved him off. "Well, of course I'll do that as soon as I can find the amulet!" He walked to the door. Francis held out his arm and caught him around the chest.

"Guard. It. With. Your. _Life."_

"Yeah, yeah, sure! Guard it with my life. I understand."

Francis smiled, though it was a pale, strained smile. "Good luck, Feliciano."

As soon as Feliciano left, Francis stood alone in the room. He pulled the book from his pocket and opened it.

"Do it. Kill me. I dare you. This book will not leave this place with Edelstein."

 _Oh, how you tremble. You are afraid. One last chance. Your wife is home waiting for you. How terrible it would be if she learned you were dead. Really, it's not that difficult. No harm will come to anyone. No one will even know you were involved._

"I'll know I was involved."

 _You already know you were involved. So finish the job. One last chance, Francis. One last chance._

"I will not do it!" Francis declared. He threw the book down and stomped on it. Then he grasped the tiny quill with two fingers and tugged with all his might. The quill completely sunk into his arm. Warm poison spilled into his blood. He felt his head pulse. His body felt light and tingly.

 _"_ _J'ai… sommeil…"_

He collapsed and was still.

A tawny owl fluttered in from the window and picked up the demon book in its talons. With a few swoops and dives, it deposited the deplorable object into the carriage of the Duke of Edelweiss without him even noticing.

* * *

"So that's it. Everyone's going home," Alfred said, smiling down on the afternoon bustle of Lafée.

He and his friend stood on the roof of the inn admiring the view. Down below, people were struggling to pick up all the upset plants and overturned tables from a freak windstorm earlier in the day. The wind had howled, _"Don't touch me! Don't touch me, great brute! Tainted blood!"_ Though no one could even begin to fathom why the wind was so offended.

"You're going back to your rain and gloom?"

"I quite enjoy the rain and gloom, but I wish with all my heart I didn't have to go back," Arthur grumbled next to him.

"You don't _have_ to do anything."

"No, Alfred, I have to go home. I have to face my fate with all the courage I can muster."

"Well, don't do what makes you uncomfortable."

"I have to put up a fight and take my last stand as one man against the world. One last patch of darkness that will try with all its might to overcome the blasted light shining in it."

"You should be a writer."

"Maybe I should."

"You could put up a fight and have nothing happen to you at all. They're just dreams, Arts."

"Horrifying dreams. Do you know what I dreamed this morning? I dreamed I was in my pajamas and fettered to a stone table while a crowd of hundreds glared disgusted. My stomach was churning. Someone must have forced the potion bottle into my mouth."

"So what did you do?"

"I… I felt that red power come to me again, and I told them they would never win while I lived. But then I turned into a frog!"

"So you're gonna save the world as a frog?"

"I don't bloody know!"

"You have to find a princess who will kiss you!"

"Alfred, I'm going to be an ordinary, bug-eyed frog who lives in Mrs. Tortlefort's pond in the north of Gavinshire. I'll eat flies and sleep in the mud 'til the end of my days."

"Unless you tell 'em you've got rights to not be a frog."

"Yes, well, that would be something."

Alfred reached out and squished Arthur's cheeks. "Advocate for yourself! Use your words! Say, _'I'm a fair being, too.'"_

"That's what I want to do!"

"Good!"

"No, wait—"

Matthew burst through the door at the top of the staircase to join them. "Francis won't wake up!"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the three of them stood over Francis, who was lying still in the local physician's house. He looked peacefully asleep except for his shallow breathing and the deep reddish-purple bruise on the underside of his left arm.

"Will he live?" Matthew asked fretfully.

"I can't be sure at this point," said the physician. He was taking a blood sample from the site of the bruise while his assistants checked Francis' vitals. "A fast-acting poison. Do these feathers and these hard lips have something to do with it?"

"He was cursed yesterday. The effects seem to be fading," Arthur explained. The doctors looked disturbed, but they continued in earnest.

"Alcohol poisoning?" Alfred said.

"How did he get that bruise, then?" Matthew retorted.

"Do you think it could be Gilbert?" Arthur asked.

Alfred shook his head. "Gilbert just likes curses." He leaned on the window sill. "Poor guy. I guess I could save you, but not him. Not that I liked him like a friend or anything, but he seemed like a good guy."

"Don't talk about him like he's dead!" Matthew shrieked.

But Alfred had ceased listening. He was looking at something very peculiar. Outside, perched atop a lamppost, (though he was sure it was trying to look inconspicuous,) was a barn owl. Its heart-shaped face loomed like a curious moon above the street. Huge black eyes sparkled with interest.

Alfred cocked his head, and the barn owl looked away. Then he made eye contact with a fluffy tawny owl perched on the opposite lamppost. And he saw another barn owl perched on a café table. A pair of little owls peeked up from their perch on a leafy pot of philodendrons.

"Why are they all looking at me?" Alfred murmured. Then he saw the black eagle and recoiled suddenly. The owls took flight and scattered, but the ugly brute of a bird still eyed the physician's office dumbly and haughtily from its perch on a clothesline. It was _way_ too big to be Gilbert, and it had a full, glossy black plumage, unlike the changeling's worn, frayed feathers.

 _The first mission has ended, and a new mission must begin._

"Um, guys?"

Only Arthur answered, as Matthew was trying not to break down into tears next to Francis' side. "Yes?"

"I… I have a really bad gut feeling."

"And what would that be?"

"I think Feli's in a lot of trouble. Or, if he isn't now, he's going to be."

"Feli's fine. Gilbert isn't after him anymore."

"But _someone_ is. _Someone_ wants his amulet. That's why _someone_ sent mercenaries after Gilbert so _someone_ could get rid of the competition."

"That's ridiculous, Alfred."

"Francis was the double agent. He must've done something he shouldn't've before Feli left."

"How could you possibly come up with that?"

He mimicked Francis' voice. _"'Feliciano is safe. Isn't that enough of a reward? The important thing is that we all learned something. We don't need any material rewards.'_ Bullshit, he knew we weren't getting any rewards. He's always acted weird. Last night, Matt and I caught him drinking at three in the morning, and he was being secretive."

"Maybe he _does_ have an addiction," Matthew defended.

"Alfred, there's no more danger. Just let it go. We're all tired. I've spent more than enough time here. I have to go home," Arthur sighed.

"Do you want to go home?"

"Well, no, not if I can postpone the mess…"

Alfred grabbed his arm. "Come with me, Arts. If you blow your last stand, you can sit creaking and croaking on your lily pad and remember how you saved the world. Let's save Feliciano before his amulet can be used for something even more sinister than turning nobles into chickens."

"Wouldn't that be dangerous?"

"Relax, milord, you're super brave."

"And you're a reckless idiot."

"So you'll keep me in line? You know I'm gonna do it no matter what."

Arthur nodded, scrunching his obnoxious eyebrows together in determination. "All right. One last bloody stupid adventure."

* * *

 **~N~**

 **The story has ended, or has it? Be prepared for danger, adventure, and plenty of magic in the final arc of _Hetafata!_**

 **Published by Syntax-N on Fanfiction . net February 24th, 2019.**


	73. Face Your Face

"Arthur~"

"Who said that? Where are you? Where am I? Are my fingers webbing again? I think my fingertips are swelling!"

"You're looking a sorry sight, Arthur~"

"Then my hands must be growing! Tell me, am I turning green? I can't see in this awful light!"

A bluish mist coalesced in the blinding light to form a horrifying image. Before him floated the ghastly figure of a woman with gangly limbs and long, spindly fingers. She scrutinized him with glittery eyes that bugged out under thick-lensed spectacles. Her long mane of curls floated like clouds of airy tar behind her. She must have been augmented by the dreamscape, Arthur thought, but her features weren't terribly changed from their real life counterparts.

"Astra Heartice. Moon magician of Spearca Caeruleum. You're looking, er, fashionable." _Fashionable!? In trousers!? Why did I join this guild!?_

"Thank you, Arthur," she said, a light friendliness in her voice.

"And how are you going to torment me this night?"

The wraith stepped forward, and a wave of noxious, flowery perfume hit Arthur's form. He raised his hands to examine them while coughing and sputtering in the light. They were tinted green, but this was due to the bluish brilliance swirling around him. Little bits of crystal were clinging to his skin.

"I pity you, Arthur. I know you have your convictions about what's right and wrong. Penn informed all of us after speaking with you here."

"Is there any way for me to _not_ speak with you? I've come to the realization that I'm the worst sort of person, and I have no intention of changing."

The wraith nodded. "It can't be helped. You have the mind of one who was born centuries ago. You're afraid of the world as it is now. But you must not despair! The world is a happy, beautiful place! Come into the light, and let me show you. Let me help you to understand." She reached out one starry hand.

Arthur shied away. "I won't be beguiled."

"I don't want to beguile you. I just want to have a conversation. I want to talk to you about reality."

"Which reality?"

"The one reality. The new reality that has risen above the old. Your fate is not set in stone. I can save you from the slime. Just let me touch you. Let me show you why fairies should humble themselves and open their minds."

Her hand pressed closer. Arthur inched backwards, but behind him was a transparent wall of crystal. Sparks danced on the wraith's fingertips. He saw the reflections of faces in the facets — haunting, goblin-like faces on bulbous heads on wavering bodies. He realized in horror that each was the face of a fairy whose mind was beguiled by nonsense.

The wraith seized him by the shoulders, and the faces entered his being. They flooded his senses and overpowered his will. The sudden sensations were intoxicating. The fabric of the dream world dissolved into something even more whimsical — an imaginative, inspired work of art depicting a nonsensical reality.

He saw the images of people. Fairies. The _future._ The Isle of Rain outlined itself for him. There was uniqueness and diversity in the thoughts of fairies, with no restrictions. All before one guild forced a new belief on the others. He saw guilds of magicians, but none was an individual. All bowed to the example of the One guild and adapted new, more stringent principles. Even more stringent than the ones they already abided by.

Out of the changeling hysteria was born the belief that every fairy ever born was in danger of a horrible fate. For the protection of the very few who could truly be in danger, the entire Isle changed its mindset. Tradition and structure were abolished. Magic, forever the scapegoat, was called offensive and abominable. History was offensive, and thus, it was forgotten.

In this abstract dystopia, there was no light and no darkness. There was no sense of right or wrong. There was no sense in anything at all. Magicians were no longer magicians. Magic was no longer magic. Anything was no longer anything. Everything was everything else, without a single note of creativity. No one spoke, for language itself was twisted and gnarled into a meaningless mockery of what it once was.

(There was, for a brief time, a resistance, but all of its members were promptly dismissed and turned into frogs.)

It was a nation beguiled by nonsense. A peaceful chaos without a foundation that was busily disassembling itself.

"What are you seeing?" The moon magician asked through the murk.

"Nonsense," Arthur croaked.

The wraith jerked back. "Penn was right. What a silly little boy you are. There is no room for confusion when a new era is about to dawn. If you would just accept where we're headed—"

"Nowhere?"

"Oh, how frustrating. Your mind is twisting what I'm trying to show you! You're having the wrong vision!"

"Oh no, milady, I believe I'm having the right one. I'm just interpreting it differently. Not everyone will interpret art in the same way. Society must have discourse, you see."

She slapped him. "You are a horrid person! Careless! Wretched! Rebelling for the sake of rebelling! Do you want our children to be taken? You cannot sit with the mindset of the past when people are hurt every day!"

Arthur laughed. "You're right. Let's enjoy today. Today, a changeling is my best friend."

Then, with one hand, he reached out and touched the wraith. She screamed as her form sizzled and melted into a puddle of sparks and crystals.

"Right then."

* * *

He awoke and was met with a pair of angry golden eyes not two inches from his own.

Arthur screamed in a quavering soprano that startled the bald eagle standing on his chest. The frazzled bird beat his massive wings to balance and dug his talons into his perch. Arthur cursed and flailed his arms around while the bird fought to stay upright.

"Sodding, bloody shapeshifter scaring me half to Galar! Good Titania, get off me! Your claws are digging into my skin! Get _off!"_

The bird twittered a rude sentiment and hopped off Arthur's stained pinstriped pajamas to flutter to the floor. He then chirped an apology and wiggled his snowy tail.

Arthur was not to be beguiled by a bald eagle's interpretation of "cuteness."He looked over at his companion, his face all screwed up into a tight red scowl. "More of your 'mischief?' Is that what this is? Touching your beak to my nose so that when I wake up all I can see are your piercing eyes? My great Queen, what's to become of me? I can't run away when splendid glory is about to be dishonored. I'm supposed to go home and face my fate, not chase some whimsical falconer. Have I even seen these owls you keep talking about? No."

 _"Chirp, twitter-itter-itter."_

"But can I really trust your word?"

 _"Tweeter-twit. "_

"I know I'm your friend, but I'm terribly uneasy about all of this. Leaving Matthew behind when he needs your support and whatnot. Don't you think you're being a bit too rash?"

 _"Tweeeeet. Twitwitwitwit."_

"You're right. I absolutely _cannot_ understand a word you're saying.

The eagle hung his head, conflicted. He dug his talons into the rug on the floor of the little room. Curious, Arthur rose from bed and knelt next to the bird. He stroked the golden beak, then was startled as the eagle fluffed up and nuzzled into his hand. The peculiar white feather still bobbed on top of his head.

 _"Chirp. Chirp. Chirp."_

"Apology accepted," Arthur grumbled. "Now go change. If they're moving as fast as we think they are, they'll have left this town already. I'm assuming you were out looking for their carriage?"

The eagle shook his head. Then, quite suddenly, his body spasmed, and his pupils pinned. He ruffled his feathers and opened his beak, shaking his head from side to side in obvious displeasure. A wet, furry brown pellet fell from his throat to land before him. He clicked his beak and gave an eagle's sigh of relief.

* * *

"You're still shaking. Are you cold?"

"N-no, I've just lost my appetite." Arthur clutched his middle and stared longingly at his toast, but was unable to even sniff it.

"Dude, you can lose your appetite? What's that like?"

"Horrible."

The changeling frowned. He'd managed to wolf down his omelet and bacon in the span of about a minute and was presently still hungry. The notion of losing one's appetite sounded like a cool secret power. Not being hungry! Not having to deal with the cravings and the weakness! How could Arthur think that was horrible?

"Is this about the pellet?"

"Yes, yes, this is about the pellet! Bloody hell, Alfred, just when I think you can't get any more disturbing…" He then lowered his voice, as the two of them were receiving plenty of odd stares. "You cough up a _pellet."_

"But raptors can't digest fur and bones. We have to cough 'em up."

"Why were you a raptor in the first place? Whisper it, please. We can't draw suspicion to your identity."

"I was hunting for a midnight snack… and scouting for more of those owls."

"Right, right. The _owls,"_ Arthur drawled, drawing back his lips and letting Alfred see all of his crooked bottom teeth.

"The owls and their leader, that dumb eagle. It has to be the same eagle that attacked Ludwig and tried to steal the dream wand. Ludwig didn't even know that eagle. He thought it was Gilbert at first."

"Did you see any owls?" Arthur asked, finally nibbling at a corner of toast.

"No, but I saw a disappearing squirrel."

"Really."

"There was a little flash of light, and it disappeared! Even my eagle eyes should've seen if it just ducked under a leaf or something, but this just vanished."

"What color was the light?"

"Glackle."

Arthur sank into his seat. He felt like he was making a horrible mistake. This was turning out to be a "bloody stupid" adventure indeed, and it had only been a couple of days since he'd agreed to go. He knew Alfred was stubborn. He knew the boy needed protection and counsel. But why did this endeavor seem so useless and difficult? Even if they convinced Roderich Edelstein to let them hop aboard the carriage and ride along, the duke would still harbor an annoyance toward the magician and a burning hatred toward the changeling.

And Matthew. Poor Matthew. Alfred had begged him to the point of heated argument to come along, but as Francis lay suspended in death-like sleep with no amount of antidotes reviving him, hysterical Matthew refused to leave the knight's side, even when his own brother was about to embark on the most dangerous operation of his life.

Arthur's punishers were waiting for him. His mission had ended, and he was _supposed_ to be heading north toward the Channel to fight for his rights. Would delaying his presence make evading his fate even harder? What was right, and what was wrong, and who conducted the will of men?

"Hey," Alfred said, cutting Arthur out of his logical net. "I got a super awesome idea."

"Hm? What?"

"For our final trial of justice—"

"What if it's not even the final trial? What if the one who commands the owls bows to the one who commands the squirrels? What if there's a whole bloody animal hierarchy all vying for the power of the amulet? I imagine the one on top is a lion. Or an elephant."

"Quit makin' fun of me. There _are_ owls, and there _is_ an evil force behind all of this! If we're not gonna follow the duke into Volkerburg, we're at least gonna _warn_ him and Feli of the danger they're in!"

"I know, Alfred. I know it's important, but is it really our place?"

"Who else is gonna do it? We're the only ones who know. If you had my eyes, you'd see the owls, too! I can see lots of things people would otherwise miss. It's like my world moves faster than everyone else's. Maybe that's why I age so fast. I've got wisdom to spare."

"What about Matthew?"

"I tried to talk to Matthew."

"Don't you think Matthew needs you at a time like this? His best friend could be dead already. It's rude just for _us_ to leave Francis like that."

"I… I know," Alfred whispered. Arthur noticed a glimmer of childish guilt in his blue eyes. His true age was shining through again. He may have been wise, but he was far from a sage. "I finally feel at peace with myself and with Mattie, and suddenly I have to leave him again."

"So, what was your grand idea?"

"My grand idea? Oh, it's a surprise."

"Then why were you about to tell me about it earlier?"

"I was just gonna tease you. This is gonna be so great!" His lips stretched into a gleaming smile, and he nearly trembled in excitement.

"You've still got a white feather sprouting from your neck."

* * *

The Duke of Edelweiss' carriage was not built for fairies. The seats had cushioned backs to them and were only tall enough for the average human to put his back against and sit primly in the way nobles must do.

This left absolutely no room for Feliciano to put his wings. There was no backless compartment to fold them down into, nor any space above his head to fold them up into. This left him with only the option of riding up with the driver and whining whenever his pained wings were jostled around.

Needless to say, it was by Feliciano's insistence that the new trio stopped for a few nights in a town a few days north of the all awful memories. The fairy remembered how the wind had howled and swirled around Lafée as if it were cursed, wailing bitter commands for someone to stop touching it.

Edelstein had had enough of "commoner" life. In lieu of yet another inn, they rented a room in the upper floor of a house. For the first time in a couple of days, Feliciano immersed himself in a bath. He lowered himself into one end of the frog-footed, porcelain tub and let his wings fold down gently across its length into the heavenly water. He rubbed steaming suds over his greasy face and disheveled hair, finding security in his situation.

Feliciano soaked for a while. The scent of lavender lulled him, and he sighed in relaxation. He deserved this. He deserved the soothing warmth comforting him in this time of tumult. He deserved to bring a wet cloth over the swollen redness where his wings met his back and scrub behind his pointed ears. He carefully lathered and rinsed his wings, overjoyed to see a dull golden sheen washing off with the soap. He was healing!

After climbing out of the tub, he furiously dried his hair with a towel and gently patted his wings dry with a cloth. He caught his reflection in the mirror and cracked a smile. His auburn hair still hung in damp strings, and his face was flushed from the heat of the bath.

"Maybe… Maybe I _do_ look like Grandpa. I look like he does in the old paintings of him when he was young." He cocked his head to the side and scrutinized his appearance, nodding in contemplation.

"But Grandpa was so brave and powerful. How could someone like me be his descendent? Unless… unless maybe he was afraid sometimes, too."

Feliciano poked his cheeks and stared deeply at his reflection. The notion was unbelievable, but it suddenly made his grandfather seem much less like a legend and much more like a person. The person he had known when he was young and lost too soon.

"Grandpa Roma was afraid sometimes. He was frivolous sometimes, too. And sometimes, he was sad. Maybe he really did die of a broken heart. He lost his wife and then his son. His wings had so many holes. But I still feel like he's here somehow. Maybe he lives on inside me, and I just don't know it. Those dreams I keep having of him are so realistic."

"Felice! Roddy's baked a cake!" Elizaveta called.

"Cake! Eh, just wait! I'll be right there!" He replied. Hastily, he pulled on his trousers and unevenly buttoned his shirt. First a bath, and now Edelstein's famous cake! The delicious confections he made always made up for wrongs suffered.

"Maybe Grandpa really is proud of me. I have been very brave." Feliciano smiled fully and took a quick glance out the chilled glass of the window. Everything was looking up.

Except for maybe that giant tawny owl leering with soulless black eyes from the tree branch nearest him. He didn't notice it, but he flung the curtain back over the window and quit the bathroom, a strange shiver running down his spine.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Feliciano, a pair of determined blue eyes was also leering at the window from across the street.

Arthur grimaced, shifting the weight of the bags from one arm to the other. It was his idea to seek out a set of more weather-friendly clothes, even if the clothes were… _human._ He supposed there could be no worse dresser than Astra Heartice of Spearca Caeruleum, and so he should have no problem pushing his reputation deeper into the mud and donning these horrid things. Nothing fit right, and everything was labeled as "extra small" for some reason. For the Queen's sake, he was built slight and slender, but he wasn't _tiny!_

"I'll admit, there _is_ an illusion spell on my Red Dragonwings to make my feet look larger when I'm wearing them. But do they really look that small? Francis' feet were absolutely _enormous!_ And his must pale in comparison to Ludwig's feet! Mine can't possibly be so minuscule that—"

"Are you upset that you've got ickle widdle piggies?"

"They're perfectly average-sized on the Isle! Just like everything else about me. Every Kirkland is predisposed to be painfully plain-looking."

"Where'd you get those fuzzy caterpillars, then?"

"If you must know, they're a hereditary curse. My ancestor Bedivere Kyrkeland kissed a caterpillar—"

"Owl! Look! Owl! There!" Alfred tugged on Arthur's arm excitedly and pointed to the tree branch.

Arthur squinted. "Where are you pointing?"

"It's friggin' right there! See it? A tawny owl! It's looking at us! It's hissing and puffing up to like, three times its size! And… oh, it flew away. Did you see it?"

"No, I didn't. Do you think only you can see them?"

"Nah, you weren't looking where I was pointing. Anyway, that owl was looking into that window. This is the place Feli's staying. There's their carriage, see?"

"Right. What are we to do, then? Should we go right in and explain the situation? I expect it would be vastly simpler than to try and chase them down without knowing where they're going."

Alfred nodded. "That's just what I'm planning."

"And then you can go back to Matthew."

"No, then we have to find out who the owls work for. I think I need to catch one."

"And would it tell us who it works for?"

"The owls are obviously smarter than the average bird. I think I could get something out of them. Now, come on. I need to clean up and get changed, and then we can go and crash Edelstein's cake party."

"Cake party? Don't you mean—"

"They're having a cake party," Alfred said as if this were as obvious as the weather.

* * *

"The one who commands the owls," Arthur droned as he waited for Alfred to finish washing up. He imagined a shadowy figure with soft, silent wings folded on its back and a heart-shaped beak that could tear open an unsuspecting creature in seconds. Could it be another changeling wizard like Gilbert? Or a whole conspiracy of changelings in the forms of owls?

"I'm giving this too much thought," he sighed. "It's true someone framed Edelstein, but owls and poison? This is growing terribly peculiar."

"All right. Almost ready," Alfred said as he stepped into the room. He was now fully dressed in a brand new jacket and trousers. The frothy lace at his neck was a bit much for him, Arthur noted, but it did give at least the illusion of decency to that idiotic grin under those murky eyes.

"Where are your glasses?"

"I don't need 'em. I'll look silly."

"What are you on about? Plenty of well-dressed men like yourself wear glasses."

"Yeah, but not plain-looking ones."

"Plain-looking?"

Alfred's lip twitched playfully. "Yep."

"I'm not sure I understand… wait… dear Queen, what's happening to your—"

In an instant, Alfred picked Arthur up around the middle and slammed him down on the floor. He seized his arms and held them tightly against the floorboards.

Arthur squeaked in his throat. "What's all this!? Unhand me!"

"You're going to watch me transform," Alfred seethed in a deep, menacing voice.

"Watch you!? Why did you slam me against the—"

"Watch!"

Arthur wriggled in the other's grip. This was so very rude! Terrifying, but mostly rude! He couldn't understand the fascination Alfred was trying to imbue him with. The boy had already begun to alter himself. Arthur could tell by the faint _pops_ and _cracks_ emitting from beneath his skin. Good, dear, blessed queen, why did the bones have to make those noises?

"Hey, I said _watch,"_ Alfred said, sharper. "Don't close your eyes. You'll be closing them for a long time very, very soon."

"W-what?"

The changeling boy smirked. His dark eyes glistened dangerously. Arthur shivered. He could feel through his sleeves the way Alfred's flesh was starting to bubble and distort. His eyes traveled from the boy's belligerent face down his arm to his hands. The skin was tightening and discoloring. The knuckles popped, and the fingers shortened, and the palms broadened.

"Wait, what on earth… not wings and not your true form…"

He heard Alfred stifle a laugh. His voice cracked. "All this time, I've fooled you. 'Friends.' Friendship is impossible for fairies of darkness. You know what a life of loneliness did to Gilbert. It doesn't even matter that you're doomed. I'll just become whoever your country wants me to be and then take the shape of one of your brothers to steal your wealth. All I need is a vessel to get to the Isle."

"Alfred, what are you saying? You… you bloody unhand me right now, or I'll seal you away into a dimension of shadows!"

"Look at me."

Arthur snapped his gaze back to the changeling's face and fought back the urge to retch. Bones were shifting and crunching into new positions. His jawline grew less pronounced, and his round face grew even rounder. It was a familiar shape, Arthur noted through his hazy confusion.

But utterly unremarkable.

And then Arthur realized the blue eyes were boring right back into him, analyzing every cell and fiber and tissue.

"Oh, you're bloody serious. You're actually going to swap with me," he whispered, cold fear stabbing into his heart.

Alfred responded by releasing Arthur and standing. He watched with pleasure as his hands continued to shrink. He rolled up his sleeves and wiggled his fingers as his muscles writhed and withered. He unbuttoned his jacket and felt along his snapping ribcage. With a horrid squishing sound, his torso squeezed in on itself, fat and muscle redistributing over a smaller frame. His legs buckled, and he winced.

"You do feel pain! I knew it!"

Alfred didn't answer. He brought himself to his feet again and stared straightaway at Arthur's features. His face morphed even further. His hair was lightening and shortening. He blinked a few times, and his eyes turned a brilliant shade of emerald.

"You stop that!" Arthur cried. He raised his hand, but Alfred surrounded himself in a shield of blinding blue flames that rendered him impervious.

His eyebrows grew as thick and dark as bushes in the night.

"I command you to cease! You won't get away with this!" Arthur summoned his power, and his palms burned a scintillating green.

"All right. Finished."

Arthur froze. That had been his own voice responding to him. Slowly and fretfully, he looked over at his own frightening likeness. Plain-looking, yes, but frightening because of what had happened to grant the body such a likeness. His palms flickered.

"You _tit!_ You're just going to stand there and taunt me now!? I… I thought you were my friend."

He sat on the bed and buried his face in his hands, shuddering. His heart felt as heavy as stone. Was it all for naught? The whole thing? Were his convictions false the whole time? He was an idiot, wasn't he? The worst sort of person acting on his own selfish agenda. He conspired with a _changeling._ And that changeling had always been using him.

The other Arthur smirked knowingly and waggled his eyebrows in the stupidest fashion. "Yeesh, you look depressed."

"Just go ahead and seal my soul inside a tree already."

"Oh no, I don't want _anyone_ to see you. You'll be dead to the world, Lord Kirkland."

"Fine, fine. My dreams are only fantasy. I can't actually melt people into liquid crystal."

"You're not gonna fight back? I'm really looking forward to compressing you into a marble and burying you somewhere where no one would ever find you. It won't be fun if you don't struggle."

"Just let me have a cup of tea first, and make it a rainy spot." Arthur sighed. A purple aura of despondency hung around his shoulders.

The other Arthur's features lit up. He grinned and patted his reference on the back. "Wow, you trust me a lot more than I thought! Surprise! You faced your fear! Er, you faced your face! I'm still your best bud! No evil in here! Just an endless craving for mischief."

Arthur glowered, offended, up at him. "If this is a trick, it's a very rude and nasty one."

"I just wanted to see if you trust me. Turns out you do! Either that, or you give up way too easily. We do have to work on your confidence some more."

Arthur trembled and tried to calm his frazzled heart and quickened breathing. "O-of course I never thought you actually wanted to swap with me. Now, please change back to normal. Right. Now."

Alfred ignored the request. "I was thinking that sometime on our final quest, there might come a time when I need to be you. Or an eagle. Or a fish or something. If you can handle watching me take your shape, you can handle watching other changes."

"Why the hell would you need to be me?"

"W'll, I dunno why I'd need to be you. Maybe we need to deceive the owl master, and it wants you, so I could change into a copy of the one it's looking for and fly around on, no wait, that's something else."

"I'm aware that it's something else. Stop bringing it up."

Alfred wasn't listening. He was feeling along his body again, squeezing his arms and patting along his ribs. Arthur wanted to summon his magic and throw him against the ceiling, but if anyone dared to call the patrolmen over screaming and magic, Alfred would no doubt be in danger.

"It can't be that fascinating," he seethed, forcing himself to look at his friend. "It's not like my guts have a trifle filling. What are you going to do? Cast some complex spell with my powers?"

"Actually, I can't use the powers of others' forms. See? My magic is still blue." He lifted his hand and beheld a deep blue flame in his palm. "Now, about talking to Feliciano…"

"Let me guess. The next fear I have to face is allowing you to masquerade as me and trusting that you won't steal my identity."

"Yep! If you start with your little fears, you won't be afraid when you have to go back home and face your biggest fear!"

Watching himself say this was absolutely bizarre. It was as if his deepest self had manifested physically in front of him. Facing his fears. Summoning the courage to do what he thought he never could.

"Why does the world paint you as such an evil creature when you can be so thoughtful?"

"'Cause everybody _wants_ to think I'm evil."

"Right, well, you can't go and talk to Feli as me. He's afraid of me, and if Edelstein found out 'I' was a changeling, he'd lecture you on his own prejudice and report you to the nearest patrolman. You are no longer under Francis' protection. Staying safe is your own responsibility. I even thought I saw bags of salt being stored in someone's tool shed near the edge of town."

"I thought of that. Becoming you was just a surprise, but be prepared for me to do it again very soon. Now, allow me to change back. One, two, three, and… _owl!"_

"Where this time?"

"There! Look there! See!? Out the window! It's in a field! I'm going after it!"

"You're going after it!?"

 _Crick. Crack. Pop. Bubble. Floof._

Before Arthur could even warn him that anyone who saw a bald eagle leaping from a window would find it terribly absurd, Alfred had transformed, opened the window with his beak, and launched himself forth into the twilight.

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Arts' dream was partly inspired by "Faces" by Nik Kershaw. And, of course, "Let's Enjoy Today."**

 **And I had to throw the Galar reference in there because England is secretly a bigger** **fanboy than America. Change My Mind.**

 **Published on FanFiction . Net 10 March 2019.**


	74. The Salamander Catalogue

_No, no, no, no, no NO!_

A searing burst of pain burned in Alfred's chest. Beautiful brown feathers were torn from his body and fluttered perilously to the ground far below. He flapped his wings and rose above the brick building. His scaly feet and wicked talons hung below him. He clenched them and chirped.

 _I feel so weird,_ he thought dazedly. _I was myself… and then I was Arthur. Does he realize how warm those things keep his face? And now I'm in this shape again. My body is built for flying now. Gotta fly with confidence. Don't clip buildings. Don't flap like a fledgeling._

He then realized he was doing exactly that. Chirping, Alfred tipped his beak forward and gracefully dove to flap his wings in a more regular fashion. His legs tucked up under his body, and his tail fanned out naturally behind him. He had a mission, here! He couldn't be confused by the sudden changes!

 _Heh, it's not like my hands turned into the talons._

Alfred was not informed that anyone who saw a bald eagle dive from a window, clip its chest on a brick building and then hover some fifty feet in the air cackling to itself would find it absolutely absurd. And so he was completely ignorant of the fact that this time around, someone had actually seen him. Several someones, actually. And as Alfred gained on the tawny owl, he didn't have time to look back and see the salt sacks being lugged from the storage sheds or the brawny guards who immediately made serious inquiries.

It was a female, he noted as he caught up to her. Her petite yellow beak was framed by the elegant, rounded symmetry of her face. Her plumage was a warm, toasty brown mottled with chocolate stripes and flecked with milky white. Her talons were neatly groomed and very sharp. She was a beautiful bird. Alfred felt ashamed to be chasing her, but she was the one staring and hissing at him during the day!

She flew silently on ahead, making quick, jerking changes in direction that only a winged master could execute. She flew gracefully in circles and danced through the air with great pleasure. A mockery of his majestic form! He positioned himself behind her and chirped a warning. She responded in her own high-pitched, squeaky _ker-ree!_

Her head turned back to look at him, and her soulless black eyes analyzed his form. They suddenly sparkled with fear when they saw his talons reaching for her. Swiftly, she dove among the crinkly ruins of a harvested cornfield. The bald eagle followed her the best he could with his huge body and noisy wings. His chest still stung from the injury. He sucked in air and screeched in the loudest way possible.

 _Got you now!_ He cried out in his mind. But she jerked away again to the right, losing a brown, stripey feather in the process, and he was forced to flap up and dive once more. Then the owl lifted her wings and rose on the warm thermal. Alfred swooped and pursued. He raked his talons forward and ripped out a few more feathers, but she hurriedly folded her wings and twirled out of his reach.

The chase lasted for minutes on end. Alfred felt no sense of tiredness, and neither did his prey. She kept diving and bobbing in the air after his every swipe and volley. Slowly, Alfred did begin to lose his vitality. His eagle body was meant for soaring, not these complex aerial maneuvers. His familiar hunger tugged away at him.

 _Should've saved changing into Arts for midnight. He prob'ly would've pissed himself if he saw my face morphing into his under candlelight! Maybe if I… that's gotta be it!_

Filled with realization, Alfred guided the owl on the wind and surreptitiously directed her toward an abandoned barn on the edge of the field. He gained on her and chirped obnoxiously. His talons came forward. Every feather moved in a minute, calculated fashion as he analyzed wind and speed and prey.

And, just as he suspected, the owl took the risk and turned her head around to eye him again. She clipped the edge of the barn and spiraled to the ground. Her feathers kicked up dust, but made no sound.

Alfred swooped triumphantly down and opened his wings to land before folding them against his body and hobbling closer. He smirked with his eyes and nudged her body with the hook of his beak. She stirred gradually. Alfred thought she had broken her neck for a second before she collected herself and rose pitifully onto her talons. She turned her head up and looked upon his fierce features with a silent, thoughtful gaze.

He screeched in her face. She hissed back and tore at his already-scabbing chest. Her own shoulder had lost a layer of feathers from the crash. Alfred just clicked his beak and stared down at her. He could tell she was afraid. Her head ducked down and her plumage puffed up, making her look like a plush globe of chocolatey feathers.

Alfred snapped. She hissed again. Haughtily, the bald eagle took a talon and began scratching in the dirt.

 _READ?_

She eyed it curiously, then took a stick in her beak and miraculously scratched a reply.

 _YU NOT KIL ME._

It took him a minute to understand this owl scratch. At least her avian brain held enough intelligence for this. She was an enchanted bird. Promising. He scratched another message:

 _WHO IS YOUR MASTER?_

She replied: _I NOT BETRA._

He chirped and pointed at the question. The owl cowered and shook her head, hissing. At this, Alfred thrust his beak forward and ripped out a fine layer of feathers, ruining her perfectly puffy and symmetrical face. She screeched, but he showed her his talons and pointed at the question again.

 _NOT KIL ME. I TELL. SHE IS HACE. SHE CRUL. VARY CRUL. SHE SEE EVRYFING. SHE MIET SEE US NOW, IF SHE LUK THRU MINE IES._

 _WHY IS SHE MAKING YOU SPY ON ME?_

The owl sadly took her stick and scratched her answer:

 _SHE WWANZ POWER. TU BE FREE._

 _FREE FROM WHAT?_

She was about to answer, but she shuddered and lowered her head.

 _HACE TRY TO SEE ME. I MAST GO. I EM SOKIE._

And before Alfred could stop her, she lifted her wings and painstakingly flew into the trees, where her feathers glowed that same shade of glackle, and she vanished.

* * *

In no time ever recorded had religion caused such a discourse among peoples.

"Really?" Edelstein said thickly. He nearly spilled chocolate crumbs over his jabot before daintily biting the bit of cake from his spoon.

"Yeah, really! Allegrians believe in the Ancestral Dragon! She was the first being the earth created to be its protector. She laid an egg and breathed on it to keep it warm. When it hatched, the eggshells became people with rounded ears, but the hatchling was a being with pointed ears and perfectly tiny feet. He was her favorite child. She loved him so much that the stars became jealous and stole him away from Her! When he finally returned all grown up, he had stardust in his eyes and wings and knowledge that even the Dragon didn't have. His mother didn't even recognize him, and She didn't trust what the stars had taught him. But he was family, so She was able to forgive the stars and let him become the ancestor of all fairies."

"Humans are _eggshells,"_ Edelstein snorted.

"Roderich! He is a fairy! You let him believe what he believes!" Elizaveta shrieked.

"Why must you shout so!?"

"Why won't you let go!?"

This wasn't the first argument the two had launched into. Feliciano squirmed in his seat. He was always a bit saddened that the duke didn't accept the more wondrous aspects of the world. But he would gladly welcome Edelstein's intolerance over allowing such discourse to burgeon between them. Elizaveta, who became enraged whenever her ex-husband prodded the issue, wasn't helping in the least.

Up until that moment, they'd been sharing a lovely chocolate cake and sweet tea. It had been a most relaxing and elegant time. Then, the conversation had twisted and diverted, as it was wont to do with a fairy at the table, and here they all were once again — Feliciano sitting in uncomfortable silence while Roderich and Eliza recounted all the reasons why their marriage had been doomed from the beginning.

Sighing, Feliciano excused himself and took his cake plate over to the loveseat under the window. Daffodil curtains had been draped and tied on either side of the frosty panes, and a round vase of flowers decorated the windowsill. Outside, the street lamps were gleaming like tarnished gold over the dark rust and soot-stained bricks of the nighttime buildings. The whole landscape was lovingly worn and shabby. It was a scene that Feliciano would have loved to try painting if not for the commotion about to rip the peace apart.

"You _don't know,_ Roderich! No one will ever know what happened to them! But you can't let that one event rule how you see magic! You are wasting your life being afraid! Look at those gray hairs!"

"My father would've called magic a _disease_ to the human race. He snubbed every wizard he came into contact with."

"Your father was a madman! If he'd been alive, he would've prevented us from marrying in the first place! Or perhaps he would've ignored you all together! You always say he ignored you!"

Feliciano was about to risk singing a song of peace to warm their hearts, but he was still trying to distract himself with the yellows and browns and dark, rusty umbers. Then he saw a whole host of guards come flying down streets, their expressions ranging from looking wildly excited to suddenly disturbed. The biggest pair of them lugged huge salt sacks around. One sack tore open and spilled salt all over the street beneath the house. The two carrying it cursed and argued with each other.

The fairy put a hand to his chest. Only one thing could have caused this. He immediately thought of Alfred, but then extinguished the thought. Alfred was no longer his enemy. Even if it was him, he wouldn't have malevolent intentions…

Even if it was him…

Feliciano ran down the stairs to the lower level and zipped out the door to take in the scene for himself.

That was when he saw Arthur Kirkland howling in pain as he was dragged by the ears toward the center of town.

* * *

Sometime later, Alfred was busily gorging himself on a rabbit. His instincts held no sympathy for the creature. Its meat would not be taken in vain. It would replenish the strength of a perpetually-hungry fairy who luckily had the power to eat the strangest of meals.

He picked up the sound of whimpering and approaching footsteps. Alfred lifted his beak from his meal. He made out a shape growing larger in the darkness.

"Alfred! You are in _so_ much trouble!"

 _Perfect timing, Arts, midude! I have so much to tell you!_ The eagle thought gleefully as he snapped up a few more bites.

Arthur wore a scowl. His ears were all red, and a jagged cut ran from his lip down his chin. Alfred faltered. He folded his wings and slowed his eager feasting. _Oh,_ he thought. _Oh no, not again._

"Oh no, not again is right, you impetuous imp! Sorry to call you such a foul name, but you just can't listen, can you!? You have _no idea_ what I've been through tonight. No idea! I had fire pokers pointed at my chest. I had someone try to bite my ears off! I had my face drawn by an artist for a 'suspicious character' poster! He made my eyebrows look like squirrels! You just wait until the Council hears about this! Damn and blast, they'll laugh their arses off and feed me that frog potion in front of my bullies from primary school! The town of Little Winging will never have been so disgusted by a Kirkland, and I'll have you know, my grandfather Fitzwilliam did unspeakable things with caterpillars to try and rid himself of the curse! I'm bloody _named after_ that man!"

Alfred twittered his sympathies.

"The _only_ reason why I'm not imprisoned in that town waiting for Lady Lucille to treat me like a rare specimen is because Feliciano haggled the guards with a musical spell of sorts. Now I'm a criminal in two countries. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The first time I rode in a carriage down that same road over there with Allistor, he teased me about what would happen if I tumbled out of the carriage and someone saw my ears. My poor, sore ears."

Alfred swallowed a long strip of carrion and wiped his beak and feathers on the grass. Then he found the nearest patch of dirt and scratched out:

 _SORRY._

Arthur's face turned red. He looked about ready to hurl some intense profanities, but then he softened again and sat down in the grass, looking up at the waning moon mournfully. "I shouldn't blame you. You're impetuous, and nothing can change that. I just ran out of potion to round out my ears, and I wasn't quick enough to create some spectacle to distract everyone before you were seen. That's what I did when you went to chase Gilbert in eagle form."

 _YOU CAN PET ME. I WON'T BITE._

Arthur's eyebrows raised when he saw this. For one moment, he looked genuinely interested in avian cuddle therapy. But he wrinkled his nose at the stench of carrion and then stood up. His left hand sparkled green. He rubbed his right arm, and a glittery field of energy formed over the sleeve.

"Hop up here."

Alfred left his meal and flapped up to perch on the outstretched arm. He gripped his talons around the energy field and began to preen his wings.

Arthur looked behind him, then snapped his fingers. His and Alfred's satchels floated silently out of the bushes and followed him as he began to walk deeper into the field. Alfred noted with amusement how Arthur furrowed his brows in determination. All it took to make him confident was a bird of prey perched on his arm?

It was a sad thought. There was no way Alfred could accompany Arthur home once their adventure was finally over. It was far too dangerous for both changeling and magician, and Alfred had made a commitment to return home to Dinsmoor with Matthew. How would Arthur fare on his own? Could he realize his true courage, or would it take the assurance of a friend by his side to give him confidence?

Suddenly, the magician-turned-falconer stopped in the middle of the field. He looked around, then snapped his fingers to set the floating satchels on the ground.

"I decided it would be better if we could fit everything into one bag each, so I charmed them. You'll find all your important belongings in there as well as clothes and a goodly amount of food. Did you learn anything from that owl?"

Alfred nodded and squeaked.

Arthur thrust out his arm, and the eagle flapped off to land near the promised food. "Right. Eat, transform and meet me by that stump. I spoke with Feliciano earlier, and he told me he's already been feeling as if someone is watching him. He said he would gladly accept our company, but he isn't sure whether Roderich will allow it, especially after tonight's events."

"I _so_ changed his heart just like I changed yours!" Alfred giggled. He had just regained use of his tongue for language and was burbling stupidly over the bubbling development of his hands. "That's why I'm a _change_ ling! 'Cause I change people's hearts!"

"You're a real charmer," Arthur scoffed.

Alfred chirped. That is, he tried to chirp and made a stupid gurgling noise in his throat. He put on his new winter clothes and ate some more appropriate food for this shape. He'd have a stomachache later from the inability to cough up pellets, but his stomach had to be forgiving to his ravenous nature.

When he approached Arthur, the magician was sitting with his magic compilation and pinching a small vial of something dark between his fingers. His face was twisted in seriousness.

"Show me the _Salamander Catalogue,"_ he said. He then opened the book to a blank page. Miraculously, words formed from red ink at the top.

 _Kissing, lips, sweet, lipstick, smack, tongue, cherry, smooch, lick, love, peck…_

Alfred sat next to him and held his chin in his hands. "Just what do you think you're doing at this hour, Artie?"

"Don't pay attention to what the book says. It's just an automated spell to confuse whomever opens it. As to answer your question, I'm accessing the _Salamander Catalogue,_ the safest outlet of the Black Magic Market. I've a connection who works for them, and I believe he can help us."

Blue eyes swelled with intrigue. "Dude, that's so awesome. You talk to lizards and buy illegal crap?"

"Salamanders aren't lizards. They're fire demons. And no, well, yes, I have purchased 'illegal crap' on occasion. You can't exactly buy potion ingredients on the Isle anymore. Of course, for anyone who may be watching my life through my dreams, that was a long time ago, now."

The book had exhausted all the words it could think of in this category and had moved on to another: _bat, ball, bails, wicket, bowl, levitation…_ Arthur had already produced two blood-red coins the size of dimes from another useful book entitled _1001 Pockets_. He carefully placed them on the page and waited.

The words shuddered and dissolved. Then the two coins melted and sunk into the page as the same red ink. In their place, an invisible pen drew perfect, two-dimensional likenesses, complete with cross-hatched shadows. Out from these formed the illustration of a desk made of driftwood, and behind it, dingy, rotting shelves filled with such questionable oddities as sinful hearts, jars of hair, cursed cheese sauces, screaming bags of almonds, and saltine crackers. The sketched room was dimly lit by a lantern drawn with yellow crayon that flickered despite being drawn still.

The last thing to be drawn began with the shaping of a long, wiggly, pointed tail adorned in ruby scales. It traveled up to a torn, dirty cloak and trousers. No shoes covered scaly, dragon-like feet as they dug into the dirt floor of the decrepit room. Scaled, clawed hands on thin, gangly arms gripped a book from one of the shelves. Finally, there came a head, but the illustration only showed the back of it, which was covered by a greasy, unkempt mess of reddish-blond hair. The points of webbed, fanlike ears poked through some of the tangled strings.

"I'll be right there! Welcome to the _Salamander Catalogue!_ We now offer the soul credit option. You give us your soul and pay us back for it in six easy installments with interest rates as low as one tooth. However, we are not liable if your soul comes back to you tainted, half-eaten, or damned to eternal torment. If you do not have soul insurance, that's your own problem. How may I help you?" The voice was lilted with a savory accent.

"Vlad!" Arthur exclaimed, grinning. "It's Arthur!"

The illustration of the lizard-tailed man turned and flew to the desk to peer into what must have been the other book connected to this one. Two slitted, ruby eyes glittered like crystals, and a forked tongue flicked out from between his fangs. He puffed a few smoke rings in surprise.

"Arthur Kirkland! I haven't seen you since last year! I heard you were arrested for necromancy rituals."

"I don't see why those rumors keep popping up."

"Okay, listen. Are you still thinking of getting your steel golem appraised? Because I have this dark prince on my waiting list who is aching for enchanted servant. He says he will pay in any currency up to half a troll's weight and add in one fluid ounce of wild unicorn tears if the golem is in good condition."

"Er, sorry to say I'm not selling the golem anymore. He went rogue not long after I told you about it, and he's the whole reason for my arrest. Now the Council is even threatening to turn me into a frog."

"That's a shame! But I always knew there was something fishy with the Council. Not all copies of the _Catalogue_ confiscated on the Isle have been drowned. Prohibition is so good for business, especially when the prohibitors are corrupt."

"It's the only instance in which a celebrated magician can feel lucky to have an abysmal demon selling goods," Arthur said woefully.

"Wait, what do wild unicorn tears do?" Alfred burst out. He reached for the book.

"Don't touch the page! Anything that touches the page goes into the dimension of the catalogue!" Arthur snapped.

"They are said to bring the dead back to life, but I wouldn't know if that's true, since every time I've sold a bottle, the stupid customer doesn't read the label, drinks it himself, and comes to me dead begging for his soul back. The latest guy was a rich man who paid all the installments, so I tried to return it to him, only trying to give a dead man who didn't have a soul in the first place a soul is a logistical nightmare. Needless to say, he's currently quite mad."

"You do honestly analyze and appraise mysterious liquids, though, don't you?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, yes, all appraisals are completely honest, especially the ones I do. I can tell you personally that a toad with head at each end is worth more than animated ceramic dragon."

"Then you wouldn't mind doing a favor for me? I've extracted a bit of blood from what appeared to be a poison victim and have it here in a vial covered in a bio-preservation charm. I assume beyond a doubt that the substance tainting the blood is magical in nature, but when I assessed the victim's body, I couldn't recognize exactly what sort of magic it was."

"Dude, you did _what_ with Francy's body?"

Arthur facepalmed. "Excuse my friend. He's a changeling and incurably impetuous."

"A changeling! May I offer him some goods? I have full stock of a potion that will make the skin emit a cubic centimeter of blue sparkles for every kilocalorie used in transforming."

"How much?" Alfred asked.

"Inflation is not good on potion prices. Lowest I can offer is ten thousand demon units, but I will also settle for a fluid ounce of your blood."

Alfred wrinkled his nose in horror.

"And let's get back on the subject. Will you analyze this poisoned blood… as a favor?"

Vlad stared for a few moments. His tongue flicked disturbingly in and out, and his tail swished thoughtfully behind him.

"You fairies always think we demons will work out of kindness. This will not be free, Arthur."

"What do you want?"

"Give me a hair."

"Done."

He plucked a golden hair from the head of his friend and laid it on the page with the vial of blood. Both melted into red ink and reappeared as sketches on the illustrated desk.

"Excellent! Contact me again in a week. Here are your tokens." Vlad placed two red coins over his book. They melted into wax and reappeared as ink on Arthur's page. Arthur tilted the book, and they slid into the grass.

"Ah! One more thing! So you must get a wide range of customers. Have you dealt with anyone who calls herself Hace? Or works with lots of owls? Wants to 'be free?' Looking for wishing amulets?"

Vlad blew a thoughtful smoke ring. "Hace? I don't think I have a Hace in the customer records. And no one's asked about wishing amulets in a long time. I do have some in stock, though! One is shaped like a very pretty oak leaf. Of course, it is cursed. The wishes always reverse after a certain amount of time."

"Look for a Hace, okay? Or an owl master."

Vlad promised, and the _Salamander Catalogue_ reverted back to its original automated content.

 _The Axis Powers were stranded on an island again, when suddenly—_

"Right, enough of that rubbish," Arthur said, closing the book and standing. "Don't worry. I'm not good friends with Vlad, and I'm not one of his regular customers. He's just my primary resource for potion ingredients, and my country's prohibition amuses him."

Alfred stood and looked at the sky worriedly. "If that hair is used for evil, it's all your fault."

Arthur started walking back in the direction of town. "I'll take full responsibility after my daily bath in the sediments at the bottom of the pond. Now, who's this Hace?"

"We gotta be super quiet about this. It's nighttime. There are probably a dozen owls in the area, and they've got super hearing. Follow me."

Once they were hiding under a pile of straw in the abandoned barn with only their heads sticking out, he continued. "The owl's name was Sokie, er, something like that. She was a really bad speller for such a wise bird. She told me she serves a cruel mistress called Hace who can see through her servants' eyes. Hace needs power to 'be free.' She's probably watching both Feliciano and us through her feathered fiends. Sokie told me I have to stop her mistress. She was scared by the idea of her mistress seeing us 'talking.'"

"Hace," Arthur muttered. "What a strange name. Do you believe this Hace manipulated the whole affair with framing Roderich and sending us after Gilbert?"

"It's the evidence we have. Maybe her symbol is a swallow. We have to look out for that."

"And where do you think we'll find her?"

Alfred stopped. "You… you mean you want to look for her? But I thought… with Matthew…"

"After dwelling upon it, I can safely say Francis is only in a stable state of suspended animation. Whatever that 'poison' was, it wasn't meant to kill him. I didn't tell you because I do believe, as your conscience, that the best thing for you to do is to return and comfort your brother, but at the same time, I wouldn't trust Feliciano by himself. He may be more aware of his surroundings, but he's still easily manipulated. That Edelstein man loathes magic like Gilbert loathes humans. I can't trust you by yourself, and you're the one who can observe and calculate the world without effort."

"Yes! As sure as I'm Owlfred, I'm talon you, the fate of the world roosts owl on us! What? Why are you sc _owl_ ing? It's not a wise idea, and we might have to wing it at first, but if we both perch in, we'll have a hoot! This chick's just egging us on!"

* * *

His courage came and went. It never remained long enough for him to embrace it. This was something Feliciano knew about himself. As of now, he felt like a child for being afraid to confront Roderich and Elizaveta about their arguments. They had almost made up enough to sleep in the same room together, but then an argument had broken out about Feliciano going to help the"changeling conspirer," and Roderich was made to sleep on the loveseat under the window in the sitting room.

He thought back to the days when the two of them were truly in love. He'd been a guest at their wedding and was even asked to sing. Feliciano could never recall meeting any of Edelstein's relatives. Could that be why he was so miserable? He had no family to comfort him?

There was, of course, that little blond boy who looked like Ludwig as a child. Feliciano had grown quite fond of playing with him when he wasn't cleaning or trying to suppress his magic during scales practice. They had been friends, he remembered, but it seemed he couldn't remember more than the boy's face. Even his name was fuzzy.

Feliciano dreamed about the boy sometimes. He was always afraid in the dreams. He told Feliciano he needed to leave Edelweiss urgently, but never said exactly why. In real life, he did leave eventually. What was it Edelstein had said? The boy moved to live with his family in the mountains? The duke always fiddled with his ring when he said this. He was very fond of the ring he received for taking his new title.

"Felice?"

He pulled the duvet down from his face to look. Elizaveta stood in the doorway with a candlestick in a rusty holder.

"May I come in?"

"Eh, sure."

She sat herself down on the bed and smoothed her skirt, sighing in the darkness. "We don't hate each other, Feliciano. The man unnerves me, but I love him the same way I've always loved him. We complement each other. I'm fiery, and he's calm. I'm strong, and he's… himself."

"He doesn't like that you're a witch."

The woman squeezed her fists. "He doesn't trust magic. He never has. Gilbert tormented him his whole life. That monster even took my husband's shape and tried to kiss me. I held such ugliness in my arms that night, thinking it was my handsome Roddy. What a creep."

"Wow! That story is infamous! It was about you?"

"Another story where Gilbert is the villain he's always been. It's just strange to think of him as a changeling. Strangely, I feel like I knew that before."

"Maybe he beguiled you too."

"Yes, maybe. Roderich also has an unfortunate past. His parents and his brother and sister were killed by magic at a party, but no one ever learned why. He's never forgiven magic since. I know he was very close to his mother and sister, but his father was a jerk, and his brother was always away studying business."

"That explains why he's so miserable and why he won't accept me."

She yawned and nodded. "He never wanted you to know this, but your father was his music tutor. He died at the same party as Roderich's family. That's why Roddy is so fond of you, and it's also why he can't stand to hear your voice and see you work wonders. You remind him too much of your father, and it makes him sad. Still he speaks very rudely to you, and he made you stitch up too much underwear when you were little."

"Why didn't he tell me this!? He may have been forcing me to suppress my power, but his own incredible talent came from my papà?"

"Gigi taught him in a way that no human could learn otherwise. I never met your father, but Roderich always said he was the kindest man in the world. A beautiful singer and an expert at the lute. He sees the same in you, and it breaks his heart."

Feliciano slipped out of bed, (as it was jammed into the corner, making it impossible for him to sit up with his wings comfortably,) then leaned over and hugged the woman. "I wish I could make Herr Edelstein happy."

"I wish he would stay happy for once," Elizaveta said before she noticed her candlestick was melting onto her sleeve. "Don't tell him I've told you these things. I should've told you a long time ago. All I ask is that you be kind to him and know he isn't as cold as he seems. I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Does anyone else see Rod, Liz, and Feli as a strange sort of family?**

 **Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net March 18th, 2019.**


	75. A Pair of Pudgy Pigeons

It all started when Arthur, curled up on a bed of hay in that dilapidated barn, suddenly reached out and pulled the bald eagle up to his side. With one arm, he squeezed and cuddled the bird as if he were a toy. The bird twittered in vehement protest, but his chivalrous conscience could not bring him to rake his talons across Arthur's arm or dig the hook of his beak into Arthur's nose. He shifted his wings and weakly swiveled his head around. His feathers ruffled and folded from the squishing.

The eagle's eyes pinned in horror when he felt cool, soft breaths rustling his snowy head feathers and untrimmed fingernails scritching at his chest. How could he escape such a precarious situation? Option one would be to bite his snuggly captor awake, which would be rude. Reverting to a fair likeness would no doubt end in disastrous embarrassment, so that was right out. That left only either changing into something smaller or trying to wiggle out of the lonely magician's grip.

He tried each. Unfortunately, once he'd spotted a mouse and begun to alter his form, the sudden pressure on his body to grow smaller was frightening, especially when he thought of the owls. He shook the mouse's shape from his head and grew into a full eagle again. Arthur squished him even tighter. Wiggling away wasn't an option. He could try with all his might, but the only way to successfully escape this iron grip would be to scramble out with his talons and hurt his friend.

So Alfred was doomed to wait with a disgruntled darkness in his golden eyes. He endured the chest scritches and the sweet breaths and the tightness with which the magician held him. He pondered in his heart whether he would ever offer his feathers for petting again. He shouldn't have been joyful when Arthur tensed in the throes of a nightmare and loosened his grip. But it was at this very moment when he finally spread his cramped wings and flapped up to perch in the rafters.

He peeked through a weather-worn crack in the wall to look for nocturnal menaces. The experience of almost being a mouse came back to him now. Being a very small creature might make him easy prey, but wouldn't it make him a better spy himself? He could act as one of many small, insignificant, stupid creatures minding their own business. Perhaps he could even blend in with Hace's minions!

After entertaining this thought for quite some time (in between preening and hunting,) Alfred became the author of a marvelous idea.

* * *

The sun had yet to show itself.

The two companions made their way through the devastated cornfield back the way they'd come at the beginning of the night's adventure. Arthur's teeth were chattering, and his sore ears were nearly purple with cold. Alfred, on the other hand, had taken his true form and was shivering so violently his fangs cut into his bottom lip. In order to relieve themselves of the frosty weather, the two argued over the recent, embarrassing affair.

"So you like to cuddle with things? I thought that was only my problem!"

"It _is_ only your _—"_

"I said you could pet me, not squeeze me to death. All my feathers were rumpled."

"That's your own bloody fault for becoming a bird again in the first place!"

"I wanted to be warm and comfy."

"If you like being an eagle so much, why don't you live as one? You'd be free of all the responsibility and social rubbish. Isn't loving yourself the most essential bit of being alive?"

Alfred gave him a sharp, deep-eyed look. "Hey, what did I say about wallowing in loneliness?"

"I wasn't talking about loneliness."

"Then what were you talking about?"

Arthur realized the underlying folly quickly enough and cursed changelings for being so damn clever.

"I _could_ be an eagle permanently. That would be pretty wicked awesome. Wings, talons, super vision, no knees… but I'd be lonely without people to talk to. I gotta have a sociable shape, 'cause then I can be charming, and people'll love me."

Arthur was about to retort, but then Alfred did something terrifying. Quick as the wind, he froze and squatted down. The outlines of his knobbly knees were visible through his pants, and his coat hung off him like a sheet. Dagger-like ears wiggled and twitched. Deep blue eyes darkened even further.

Arthur jumped back when Alfred pulled his lips back and chittered. His stringy muscles tensed before he crawled forward and whipped his head around like a cat tracking the movements of a moth in lamplight.

"Are you bloody possessed?" Arthur sputtered.

On his haunches, the changeling chittered in short bursts of three grinding squeaks. He dug his claws into the earth and waited for a reply. Then, after a few moments of stillness, he slowly rose to his feet and let his hands hang at his sides. His ears still twitched curiously.

"Making the most of my senses in this form," he whispered. "I was right. We can't get back in there. The whole place is ringed, and there are night guards everywhere. No one's playing games after Gilbert's windstorms."

"You can tell that just by chittering into the night?"

"No, by listening. I chitter-chatted to attract some pigeons."

Arthur grunted with cold. "This is no time for foolery. If you wanted to feast on carrion again, you could've stayed a raptor and let me sleep!"

"Quiet," Alfred commanded. "I can't hear or see any suspicious creatures. They've all gotta be creepin' on Feli while he sleeps. This could be our only chance. I want you to duck down in that grass over there, 'kay?"

The schemes without context were certainly the most annoying part of being friends with a changeling, Arthur knew. Still, without protest, he went and lowered himself into the grass on his stomach while Alfred hunched low and chittered some more. He looked so odd — animalistic yet wearing human clothes. A wild creature surviving in domestic conditions. Was it even natural to swap a dying fairy child into a mundane family? Alfred said it was in his blood, but blood could be adapted by centuries of tradition.

Miraculously, Arthur heard the sound of questioning wingbeats. He stifled his breathing and tilted his head enough to see a small cloud of black shapes come whiffling into the field. He wasn't even surprised when Alfred popped up and batted half of them to the ground to charm their pear-shaped little bodies into sleep. The rest of them perched in a nearby tree and cooed curiously.

Instantly, Alfred forgot his wildness and regained the innocent appearance of a dorky corpse.

"You can come out now! I got 'em! We have a wide selection! Gray ones, white ones, blue ones… "

"Indeed," Arthur droned. He grimaced at the wet, frosty mud clinging to his new coat. He pictured Francis wearing it and smirked, then remembered the state Francis was in and begrudgingly erased the expression. "What do we do with these poor pigeons, Alfred?"

"Well, let's just pick 'em up and see what they look like."

Alfred carefully cupped a sleeping pigeon in both hands and lifted it to the moonlight. It was puffy and pudgy with ratty coal-gray quills and a lustrous green beard around its throat.

"This one's male. You can tell 'cause he's got a thick neck."

"You could pick up a disease by touching that."

"I'm immune to human diseases like any other fairy," Alfred corrected. "I really like this one. He's kinna chubs, but he's cute. Now you pick your favorite. Oh wait, gimme your arm first."

"What kind of antics are these? You preach to me about not cuddling birds and now you want me to pick a favorite pigeon? And what was all that with putting a sealant spell on our bags and burying them under the hay? I'm very fond of those cufflinks. I wouldn't like it if they were discovered and stolen. I've already lost my pocket watch. My grandfather gave me that."

"There's a method to the madness, milord. Now, don't scream."

"And what about the catalogue? Vlad said to contact him in aAAEAAAARRRGH! What in the _blazes!?"_

Alfred pulled back to reveal the shallow puncture marks in Arthur's arm. Red bubbled up and streaked down the skin where the fangs tore. Arthur yanked his arm away, but Alfred caught his wrist and held it steady with his claws.

"Try to keep it down. If there _are_ owls, the plan will be ruined. It should heal quickly. Just let me finish."

Alfred chomped on his own lip, then with a fingertip, collected a purple bead of blood. Faster than Arthur could jerk away, he smeared the purple over the weeping red and clenched both hands tightly around the wound. He narrowed his eyes and started chanting. Bluish sparks misted from his fingers.

 _"_ _Jord, jord, illusion of life, now in truth, in tangible change._

 _Blood is life, the soul animated…"_

"Don't enchant me, you shadowborn _imp!_ I'll take you right back to Matthew!"

 _"_ _Lend a voice to speak though changèd, lend the strength to see,_

 _Take the pain and give it power_

 _Take my blood, and power be…"_

Glittery, whitish-blue tendrils of light danced beneath his hands. They illuminated his pale cheeks and sharpened the contours of his bony face. Arthur felt a burst of searing energy arc up his arm and toy with something in his chest. Tight pulsing pains began to coil up in his muscles. His own inner magic was reacting to the spell. Something was changing. Something was definitely changing, and his body wasn't going to have it.

His mind raced, sending every attack spell he knew to his consciousness. But, as Arthur had been taught at Yaits, if one finds his magic being enchanted, the worst thing to do is attempt a counterspell in the moment. The mixing of spells could easily weave a snarled, unbreakable curse on the victim.

 _"_ _I bless you now. Now and for now._

 _In blood, share my being."_

Alfred lifted his hands. The wound had closed, but Arthur was in agony. He collapsed, clutching his heart and whimpering from the writhing pain still circulating through his blood and bones. His magic felt different. It felt intense. Electric. Excited. It made his muscles twitch and his senses open to every new sensation in his body.

"Bloody… fuck…" he heaved. He blinked a few times. Alfred loomed above him, features as sharp as ever. "What did you _do?"_

"Just a spell I found in your book a while ago." Alfred reached out and pulled Arthur back up. Arthur trembled, not just with cold, but with pure adrenaline, or something like it. Every fiber of him was zinging in anticipation. His chest was on fire. He looked at Alfred wide-eyed, then turned to look out at the scenery, then eyed the ground, and then he looked back to Alfred again.

And as he looked at Alfred, he _saw_ Alfred. Not just his features, but every little dip and curve in his features. He saw the direction each hair was slipping and exactly where the skin went from smooth to pocked and scarred, and he could _feel_ the texture of the delicate blue star over the bridge of his nose. He could even see under the skin if he wished. It was all right there, logically. The inside of his friend.

"Why… oh, I've got a headache…"

"Yeah, you look kinna pale. Are you feeling okay?"

"Stop being so loud. Can't you see I'm trying to melt?"

"I'm loud? Wait…"

Alfred threw a punch right at Arthur's face. In less than an instant, Arthur heard the swish of wind and saw the creases of skin over the knuckles. In an angle he calculated without even trying, he raised his hand and caught the fist inches from his nose.

"Dude, this is amazing! I meant to only give you my shapeshifting powers, but you got my senses and reflexes, too!"

"You meant to give me _what?"_

"You need to be able to disguise yourself so you can slip past Hace's eyes, and since you suck at illusions, I thought I could teach you to transform. It might take away some of your fear—"

"Alfred! What have you done!? With this much power in my body, I'll start to waste away like you!"

"Relax. My body _produces_ crazy energy. All I did was infuse you with enough changeling power to transform a couple of times, and then you'll have used it up, and you'll be back to normal."

"I am _not_ going to transform."

"Why not? It'll be fun! See? Just pick your favorite pigeon and we'll both transform together! These little guys are everywhere! We'll blend in so well, Hace'll think we gave up and vanished!"

"Are you bloody mad!? I was born a gentleman! I composed my own soliloquies at age thirteen! I studied at Yaits! I—"

Alfred calmly gripped his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "This is the next fear you have to face."

Arthur whined in his throat. Damn the changeling boy and his half-wit schemes. Damn that aged darkness in his eyes.

"Oh… oh… let me see the one with the green neck. _You_ have to be the fat white one there as punishment for dreaming this up."

"Whatever you say as long as he's not too fat to fly."

Arthur looked down at the birds. A thousand thousand details flooded his brain. The vertigo was nauseating. He shuddered and clutched his stomach.

Alfred realized just how unwell his friend was feeling and let him be for a while. Arthur just curled up around his knees and tried to stop shaking. He felt as if he'd eaten an entire sack of sugar and more. His body surged with magic. His mind counted uncountable details and stored them away in his memory. In a way, he saw how he logically _could_ change shape if he wished. If everything was altered just slightly according to the details, his arms could become wings, and his nose could stretch into a beak…

"Gah!" He finally burst out. "I'm not going to do it! I'm too afraid! It's a stupid idea! How would I even change back?"

"Oh, that's the easiest part! C'mon, I'll teach you to fly! You're super smart. You'll learn fast."

"So what if I can transform because of what you did? I'm not putting myself through that. You know my stomach can't handle the sound of bones breaking."

He went on into a verbose soliloquy about how horrible it would feel and how unethical the whole affair was, but Alfred had already gone on to place the green-necked pigeon in a little rut in the grass so Arthur could see it clearly. He then helped Arthur to kneel and remove his coat for the ease of transformation.

"Welp, I've never taught anyone to do this before. It's just kinna second-nature to me, so I apologize if my instructions are confusing."

"I'm not doing it."

"Geez, Arts. You don't even have to change all at once. We can start small. Look at your hands, and then look at the wings. Can you see all the details?"

Arthur begrudgingly looked. His own small, round hands. Pale and smooth. Untrimmed fingernails. Soft veins in the skin. Then he looked to the gray, shell-shaped wings of the bird. He saw the tiny, delicate bone structure beneath the coating of feathers. He saw each little whitish filament on every quill.

"Y-yeah. I can see."

"Now, you're gonna summon just a tiny bit of power into your hands. Let it fill 'em up 'til they start feeling itchy. And then I want you to imagine a 'bridge.' How are you gonna change what you've got into what he's got? You have to lose the individual fingers, and you need to grow your primary feathers in their places. Think of things like that. Then, when you know _what_ you're changing and _how_ it has to change, um, this part's kinna hard to explain."

"Yes?" Arthur bit. He was terrified past his wits, but if he could burn off some of this extra power…

"You have to kinna flex your shape. It's half magic and half you. So if you want your fingers to merge, you could try pressing them together— Hey, yeah! You're doing it!'

He was doing it. Arthur, in between rapid, terrified breaths, saw what needed to be changed. He imagined how it would need to change. And then, by the work of some sickening new instinct, he summoned a bit of power into his hands and pressed his fingers together. A warm itch spread through the flesh and bone, and then, with the feeling of a thousand tiny, bubbling pressures squeezing and shifting and altering where he had tensed them before, they began to merge.

"Ah!"

"Don't be scared. Just keep comparing your shape to the bird's. Look! Your first quills!"

Already Arthur wanted to heave into the grass. He couldn't feel his fingers anymore. They had all meshed together into a pointed structure that was stretching far past his shrinking thumbs. His plain little hands were distorting. Grayish down began to form on the surface of his skin, and out of it, even patterns of quills emerged.

His arms jerked abruptly, and he felt them pulling at his shoulders as they thinned and lengthened. His muscles melted away, and his bones itched furiously as they hollowed out. The feeling of feathers cropping up all along these branch-like appendages made him light-headed. His vision began to blur.

"You're doing great. No, you can't close your eyes yet. You have to keep looking at the pigeon until you see everything. Does it hurt at all?"

Arthur forced himself to look at the bird. He shook his head. "N-no, it doesn't _hurt._ It's just… terribly _strange._ Do you ever feel like your _bones_ are itching?"

"Every time," Alfred laughed. "See? It's not so scary. It feels good."

"No, it does not feel _good—_ Oh…"

His mind was processing the details quicker and quicker. As soon as the itching spread to his chest, his ribs started to crack, and his spine dipped inward. Arthur closed his eyes just to let these changes transpire. There was a sudden blooming warmth that pooled in his chest and dripped down through his torso. It expanded, pushing at the walls of his insides. He was swiftly filling out and plumping around his shifting skeleton. His clothes didn't fit quite right anymore. He struggled in their constriction.

"I must be hideous."

"Meh, it's not an aesthetic power. Still doesn't hurt?"

"It's… it feels like when you wake in the night and feel yourself falling into sleep again. There's a horrible, jarring vibration that runs through your body from your head to your toes just before you rush into a dream. It's both an uncomfortable and a pleasant sensation. Only, I know I'm not safe in my bed. I can _feel_ everything changing. _Gods,_ my stomach _hurts."_

"Sorry, I shoulda had you eat something beforehand."

"It's not because I'm hungry!"

"Yeah, but it's never good to transform without something in your system. Just try to focus on the changes that feel good. You're starting to shrink a little faster now."

Arthur quickly regretted admitting any bit of this felt good. He opened his eyes and felt his head begin to throb from the pressures. His skull compressed, and his skin tightened, and he felt like his very being was suddenly crushed and forced into a snug little vessel. His neck pinched from a sudden, tremendous strain forcing it to grow longer. His nose hardened and pressed forward into the sharp little beak. He finally summoned the courage to look down and saw a fan of green feathers fluffing out around his throat.

Something soft fell around him, then, and he was lost in darkness. The only sensation he felt was the continuing pulse of magic snapping his bones and twisting his body into something utterly grotesque. He tried to grimace at the noises, but his lips had stiffened. His little heart pounded in his proud chest. He was pretty sure his knees had just become one with his belly and his toes had become the majority of his feet.

And then, whether it was the most horrid magical effect that had ever overtaken him, or the warmest, most wonderful experience he'd ever been happy to feel, (he really couldn't tell in retrospect,) it stopped. Arthur quivered. His body felt cold and alien. He pressed his wings close against him and pulled his head down so he resembled a shuddering ball of gray feathers.

Something huge parted the darkness, and he saw a pair of enormous, pale _somethings_ reach for his dazed form. They cupped around his body and lifted him up.

"Ha-ha! Wow! Look at you! You're a natural!"

Arthur opened his eyes. They were no longer green, but orange, like blurry rings of fire around dark, mysterious centers. His vision was even brighter and clearer than with Alfred's spell, and he easily made out Alfred's face looming above him. He screamed in panic.

 _"_ _Coo-woo! Coo-woo-woo! Woooo!"_

"Awww, you kept your little caterpillar brows. What a cute birb you are."

 _Put me down!_ Arthur rallied in his mind. His lilting voice was no more. All he could produce was that purring coo. He popped up and threw out his arms, no, _wings,_ to balance. Instinctively, he flapped. His stomach lurched as he felt himself rise out of the cupped hands and float to the ground to stand on short, shaky legs. He tried to walk and found himself half-strutting, half-hobbling around the ruts. He saw his clothes piled in the frosty grass and wanted to cry.

"Okay, just let me hide our clothes and wake our little friends, and I'll be right with you," Alfred said.

Arthur watched with burning envy as the changeling took the whole process so casually. _He_ didn't even flinch when his arms stretched or his ribs cracked or his nose hardened. _He_ only looked _fascinated._ Indeed, the only discomfort he displayed was when he realized just how pudgy his reference was and then realized just how pudgy he was growing to match.

But only a few minutes later, Alfred was a spunky white pigeon with a black streak on the back of his neck and a peculiar feather bobbing on top of his head. He cooed and fluffed his silvery wings.

Arthur opened his beak and threw up.

* * *

Feliciano walked through rows and rows of grapes. The sun above was warm on his wings, and the soil of the vineyard squished beneath his sandals. The scent of olives drifted through the air.

A singing voice rang in his ears. It was deep and melodious. He recognized it instantly. Feliciano's eyes brightened as he dashed forward, looking for the source of the singing. He pushed between the rows and crawled under a mess of tangled vines.

He laughed when he saw his grandpa sitting on the hill under the villa. Roma strummed a lute and sang a song that made Feliciano's chest bubble with happiness like a pot of excited water. Feliciano ran up and threw himself at his grandfather's side, burbling with joy. His grandfather looked down and him and smiled. His honey-gold eyes crinkled mischievously.

"Felice."

"Grandpa Roma! _Nonno!_ I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"It's true," Roma sighed, though he didn't cease his smile.

"It _is_ true. I can't touch you. Why can't I touch you? It's my dream. I should be able to—"

"When I'm here in spirit, I'm a spirit."

"Again?" Feliciano hugged his knees. His wings relaxed behind him. "But you feel so real. Sometimes I don't even dream about you and I feel like you watch over me in the night."

Roma laughed. "Well, it can be hard to visit you every night, but I'll be there whenever your heart desires it. You're my little grandson."

"Can Papà visit me, too?"

The tanned, wrinkled fingers loosened over the strings of the lute. Roma looked pensive. He stared off into the distant grape vines. "I have never met him here in the spirit realm. The curse that destroyed his body also destroyed his soul. It couldn't escape in time."

Feliciano's lips parted, but he could say nothing. He hid his head and quietly apologized.

"Don't feel sorry. Gigi wouldn't want us to be sad, and I have no reason to be sad anymore. That was my old life. Now I am free. Free to watch over you and Lovino and free to be with you whenever your heart desires it."

"Just in dreams, though. I'll never see you in real life. I'll never be able to talk to you like I could talk to Kiku's spirit. I just have to talk to you here and forget half of what you say by the time I wake up."

"Maybe you _can_ talk to me elsewhere. You _know_ where to find me."

Feliciano jerked his head up and scrutinized his grandfather. His curls were all tangled, and his stubble was stained with wine. His traditional flowy tunic slipped down on his chest.

"But… but you're not real. You're gone."

"Don't be silly, Feliciano. If I were all gone, how would I be here? It's because you _know_ where I am."

"Inside me? In my heart? In my imagination?"

"No, come on. You know this. You know the answer. Use your head. Remember."

"Remember what? Grandpa, are you trying to tell me something? Is it about my power? If you could tell me anything about that, I'd listen! I need to know how to control it! It's growing!"

Roma pursed his lips. "You're so grown up."

"Grandpa, please! What are you trying to say? What's this 'answer?'"

"You know."

"No, I don't know! I wish you would just tell me what you mean!"

Roma tapped a finger to his head and raised his eyebrows. "You know."

"No! _Tell_ me!"

But Roma was gone, and Feliciano was flying up and up, away from the vineyards and the villa.

The room was light when he awoke. He got up and stretched, yawning.

"I don't know what he could possibly mean. Use my head? I know the answer? Why do my dreams have to mock my memory of him? They're just pouring all my fear into his words. I don't have all the answers…"

Then he jumped. A dark silhouette dominated the curtain to his room. He crept toward it and threw the yellow fabric back, but nothing was there. The same creepy shudder ran down his spine. His wings quivered in nervousness.

"This is getting too weird. I have to protect Herr Edelstein, but I also have to protect myself. I hope Arthur and Alfred can look out for me, wherever they are."

* * *

Edelstein's behavior was perhaps the oddest thing about Feliciano's morning. The duke was strangely _cheery,_ and he kept looking at Feliciano as if he were a delightful gift. He even produced a few furtive smirks that were done away with when he adjusted his spectacles.

 _Did he and Eliza…? No, no, that would never happen. Don't think evil thoughts, Feli. It's very disrespectful to imagine something like that about someone you care about._

"Why are you so happy all of a sudden?" He finally asked the duke when they were outside bundling up for the long ride north. "Did you have a good dream? You were so grumpy last night. I like seeing this change in you."

Edelstein grimaced at the sentiment, but he didn't look angry. He only turned to Feliciano and gave him an esteemed, graceful expression.

"You know how disorganized I can be, Feliciano."

"Yeah."

"Well, last night, before I went to sleep, I found this crinkled up in the bottom of my suitcase! It's from the beginning of the summer. Look at the page for November."

He produced a pink leaflet from his coat pocket. Feliciano flipped through it. Each page was decorated with little printed flowers and typed up in excited Folkerburgese phrases. He got to the one labeled _November_ and furrowed his brow.

"I can't read this language."

Edelstein pointed to the words. "At the end of the month, the city of Fulchen in western Volkerburg celebrates its November festival, and this includes the Dahlia Ball and art show. If we hurry, we may be right on time for it. It's on the way to Edelweiss. I thought of you when I saw this. I've been to some of these flower festivals, and as an artist, you may love what you see."

Feliciano's features lit up. He smiled in disbelief at his old friend. "You really thought of me? Of course we can go to this! Seeing something artsy will really make me happy! Oh, _grazie!_ I'm sorry for all the sulking I've been doing! It must have made you frustrated. I just want us to all get along—"

"That's quite enough thanking me. There's no need to be overly frivolous about every little thing," the duke snapped.

"Right, sir!"

A dance and a festival! And the whole thing just days away! Edelstein was truly trying to make up for all the trouble! Feliciano fluttered and danced right in place. Things were really beginning to patch themselves up. The only thing that would make this better was his ability to fly, but alas, his wings were still a bit too heavy. He buttoned his coat and climbed up next to the driver, parting his wings on either side of the seat.

A certain pair of winged creatures could fly, however. They were perched in a tree just on the other side of the salt ring. One looked wildly uncomfortable, and the other puffed up his chest proudly and wiggled his tail.

 _"_ _Coo-wooooo."_

 _"_ _Woo."_

* * *

 **~N~**

 **I would like to thank Soloist-in-the-Sky, who wrote a lovely blog post praising** ** _Hetafata_** **. I can't read Chinese, but with translators, I got the message and was honored. Blog posts/recommendations/fanart will always be appreciated. I would just ask that in the future, readers message me before posting about my work.**

 **Fataverse fans, check your alerts/my profile on April 23rd for something very special!**

 **Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net April 12th, 2019. Reposters will be turned into something far worse than pigeons.**


	76. In the City of Grotesques

He was in a great redwood forest. The trunks of the trees around him grew as thick around as ten men and stood like pillars rising into the heavens. The sky itself was a strange indigo color that frothed and undulated like the surface of the ocean. Verdant ferns grew as tall as his waist and stuck to his hands as he pushed through their leafy girth.

With the most disgruntled of expressions, he was tromping away from the one called Herschel, who was perhaps the most irritating member of Spearca Caeruleum. Arthur was used to the routine. Every member of his guild and a few Councilmen had tormented him by now. He had long grown bored of their arguments and strategies to coax him to their progressive whims. Granted, he always awoke in a cold sweat, but he felt more and more confident the more enemies he faced. Every sort of mind-bending test of his will had been thrown at him. And every time, he remembered what he fought for and why he fought for it.

At present, Herschel pursued him dressed in a suit and whinging that everyone — _everyone —_ should sympathize with those dark magic hurt, and in this fashion, everyone — _everyone —_ should fashion themselves, (damn that incorrigible grammar! Language was already deconstructing itself!) as one who was hurt and wear the garb of one who was hurt and speak the words of one who was hurt and cater to the every need of one who was hurt, et cetera.

"Wicked man! Wicked man you are! I shall write in my diary about you! We must never forget the past! The changeling menace is not something to be forgotten! It is a threat to us all!" He exclaimed, fidgeting with his top hat and poking Arthur's back with his cane.

"Yes, we must never forget the past, but that doesn't mean continuing to be afraid. No, we should not speak idly of wicked creatures, but we must not fear their wickedness. I've come to know that even wicked creatures feel pain when we hate them, and I think we hate them far too much. It's downright unfair. We now not only deny our natures for the sake of courtesy, but we deny our _courtesy_ for the sake of denying our _cousins!"_

"Changeling-lover! You'll die in a scummy pond, Arthur _Croak_ land!"

He then proceeded to call Arthur all sorts of mind-bending, eye-bleeding, blood-curdling, bone-breaking, stomach-churning insults the posh, modern fairy would have thought dead perhaps a hundred years ago for the sake of sacred courtesy. Arthur was astonished and considered summoning his own lexicon of hatred, but then rose into maturity and struck back with calm cunning.

"My good Herschel, I can't remember the last time you actively displayed your agreeable light magicks to beguile the public."

"I beg your pardon!?"

"You're a buffoon. All talk and nothing to show for it. A warrior for your dogma when you've never applied it to your work. You've got no devotion at all. Now, have you melted into a pile of sparkling rainbow muck yet, or is there more exhausting arguing to be done?"

The sky flickered suddenly. Arthur peered up and thought he saw a flash of blue come over the forest. The trees wobbled. Confused, he looked back at Herschel. The man looked paler. His features had sharpened and stretched. His beard had darkened. It looked almost… reddish?

"Oh, sorry, but I've already seen this one. Heartice showed it to me. The ambiguous world with the grotesques? Quite terrifying, but I have to say I'm immune to it now."

Herschel's jaw dropped. He looked at his hands, then covered his face as if frightened. The sky cracked open, then flushed blue, and then Arthur's knees buckled, and he writhed around in the damp, dark dirt. Pain shot up his nerves and locked his muscles in place. It was much, much worse than the tight, burning pains caused by Alfred's spell. He was dying. Choking. Everything was blue.

But he didn't wake up this time.

The forest dissolved. The mud turned to tile and the sylvan sweetness to the noxious scent of pine smoke. He saw shadowy silhouettes shift above him. They leered at him as he lay on his back in a bed that was feathery-soft and rock-hard all at once. Something thick and slimy was swelling in his gut and forcing its way up his throat. He turned himself over and retched.

 _"—_ _enough to… five humans… a single drop would have…—_

 _"—_ _on his life?"_

 _"—_ _a magician,_ now! _I don't bloody care—"_

 _"_ _It wasn't my fault! I didn't know! He just told me—"_

 _"_ _That's the fault in the system."_

 _"_ _Cut his shirt off! —dying!"_

 ** _"—_** ** _Happened? Has he… the truth?"_**

 ** _"_** ** _It doesn't work… blasted bird form! Withdraw now!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _The memories!"_**

* * *

Arthur tumbled from the branch. He flailed his arms wildly before realizing they were wings now and gliding as gracefully as he could to the ground. He steadied his stout little body, then hobbled around to see where he had taken respite overnight.

 _Botheration, I knew I would be sleeping in a tree at some point._

His body trembled with a fear and a phantom pain that were much too big for him, and he was hit with the same vertigo he'd experienced every morning since becoming a pigeon. He was far too small. Far too compact. Far too round and far too feathery. Nothing was right with his body. He couldn't stand this form. He couldn't stand this laconic lifestyle. He needed to change back _now—_

A curious cooing caught his attention. He looked to see the pudgy shape of Alfred drift down to land near him. The white pigeon spread a wing and brushed Arthur's quivering feathers. How could a pigeon still display such wisdom and concern in his eyes?

Arthur tried his best to pull himself together. There were advantages to being a bird over a man. He was warm, he could fly, he and Alfred hadn't been sought after by any predators, save for a hawk that thought Alfred too portly to dodge. It was a lovely experience being a pigeon! He could fly and… such…

 _"_ _Cooooo,"_ Alfred said, and Arthur knew it meant something along the lines of, "It'll be okay! Just keep powering through!"

Arthur just hung his head. He wondered if the tiny brain his awareness had been stuffed into screwed up his sense of time. He couldn't remember how long he'd lived with these ratty wings and these wrinkled feet. They'd been chasing Feliciano for days, looking for any source of malice or manipulation that could come to harm him. They had garnered nothing yet. Nothing except the owls and the rodents. Even when they had flown across the border into Volkerburg, (which was terribly frustrating, as Alfred balked for three hours before he realized his pigeon form would relieve him of most human suspicion,) the level of danger never changed.

 _"_ _Cooo-roo,"_ Alfred said. He beckoned with his beak for Arthur to follow him, then whirred his wings and rose like a flabby snowball into the air.

Arthur imitated the motions. The spell had given him the ability to emulate movements with startling accuracy. He darted forward, then opened his wings and flapped. His chest bulged, and his feet tucked up under him. His stomach flip-flopped as he floated away from the shady dirt beneath the tree. He beat his wings rhythmically and rose to meet Alfred on the wind.

Their quarry had come to rest in a fairly large city on the banks of the Rhein river in western Volkerburg. The place oozed culture, with musicians and artists cramming every inn and the scent of bread and flowers wafting up from the squat little buildings. The city had an aesthetic of red brick roofs and thatched, Tudor houses and pointy steeples. Its streets were organized in sharp right angles that came to converge upon a large, circular park full of wild grasses.

The red brick clock tower was the tallest structure. Right as the two pigeons rose above the little neighborhood they'd slept in, its bell bonged nine times. The sky was neither indigo nor blue, but a tedious gray.

Arthur remembered the strangeness of his dream. Something had gone wrong with the dream-meddling spell because he was a bird. How hadn't he thought of this to escape the nightmares before? Oh, right. He was deathly afraid of transformation.

But what about the bed and the pain? Something about life and death? A drop of something? Memories? If that scene was a memory, it was a foggy one at best. He never remembered feeling so abysmal in all his life, and if someone had cut his shirt off, he was sure he would remember it!

He shook his head and focused on flying. He angled his wings to dive down under clotheslines and to avoid smashing into windows. His stout body was not built for speed, but it worked to carry him over the houses and gardens toward the round little neighborhood surrounding the clock tower. It was here where Alfred came to rest on the edge of a shallow stone fountain. The statue in the middle held the likeness of a bearded king with a long, curly wig and a ruff around his neck. Water spilled off the folds of the ruff and dribbled down into the basin.

Alfred hopped down and fluffed himself in the water. He shook his wings and fanned his tail, letting the chilly bath soak his feathers.

 _He even bathes like a bird. We certainly are covering all the bases,_ Arthur thought. _Next he'll take me to eat bread crumbs off the ground again. How dreadful._

But he put these thoughts aside as he, too, hopped into the water and fluffed up his feathers. Little droplets collected on the quills and sprayed like glittery mist all around him when he shook. It was freezing, but he didn't let it soak him all the way through before he hopped back up to perch next to Alfred on the basin's rim. They shook from head to tail to dry themselves and lifted their wings again.

Just as was predicted, they then flew to the storefront of a bakery and waddled around stupidly with their heads bobbing forwards and backwards pining for breadcrumbs. Arthur mentally cursed every time he snapped up an edible modicum from between the dirty bricks of the ground. It was nourishing, and it satisfied the magic Alfred had imbued him with, but if it weren't for the gray and green feathers, he would have turned as red as a robin's breast.

 _"_ _Coooo, cooooooooo,"_ he crooned.

 _„_ _Mama! Mama! Schau mal! Die Tauben lieben das Schwarzbrot!"_

Arthur blinked. The young boy who had been sweeping outside the bakery had disappeared and returned with a loaf of dense brown bread. He tore off chunks and tossed it over. Alfred greedily strutted around and snatched up each one while Arthur cooed at him to share before he grew even bigger.

The boy's mother, as it turned out, was also of this opinion. _„Fütter ihn nicht. Er ist fett,"_ she said, pointing at Alfred with a disgusted wrinkle in her features. Still, the white pigeon waddled up and performed his "cute" act upon the two of them. The boy bent down and stroked Alfred's feathers, then let him eat a bit out of his hand.

 _Fatarse! I want some too!_ Arthur thought. He flew up to perch on the boy's shoulder, cooing twice as cutely. _May I have some of that bread, please? It looks simply delicious. I may just have to—_

He flapped his wings to balance as his beak jerked down and pecked up mouthful after mouthful of bread. He shook his neck as he gobbled it down. The boy burst into hysterical laughter. He had become the source of felicity for two of the silliest pigeons in all of Volkerburg. If he only knew they weren't pigeons, but intelligent men!

They ate until their little bellies felt heavy and the boy's mother forced him to part from the ratty birds. With some great effort, Alfred flew off, and Arthur followed.

There must have been a festival going on. More than once, they spied people in costume or dressed for a party, and the cakes in the windows of pastry shops were decorated with little fondant flowers. Flowery arcs had been erected in the park, and a variety of musicians were practicing as soloists or ensembles.

Arthur enjoyed seeing the city from above. The air rushed over his wings and streamed along his body to his fan-like tail. He fell into the habit of flying just as he had learned to cast spells as a child. His body was built for this. He was made to swoop and dive and spin and—

 _"_ _Woo,"_ he chirped irritably. He'd smacked into Alfred in the air and beat his wings to catch himself before he spiraled downward.

Alfred took a clawed toe and pointed to the neighborhood under the clocktower. Arthur, with his new skills of observation, was unable to miss the grave detail.

The great, ugly brute of an eagle was perched on the roof of a house. It hunched like a vulture eyeing prey, and the longer the two pigeons looked, the more this description became accurate.

There was no mistaking Feliciano when he walked into view right in front of the house where the eagle was perched. The eagle slinked back into the shadow of the chimney and smirked.

* * *

Feliciano decided he really, _really_ liked this agreeable Edelstein. He didn't scowl as often, he didn't insult magic as much, and he didn't find ways to argue with Elizaveta as frequently. The vagary was most peculiar — enough to cause suspicion to bloom within Elizaveta. It was when Edelstein came to their rented flat in Fulchen that morning with a fondant flower cake that she brought Feliciano into one of the bedrooms and looked at him strangely.

"Have you enchanted Roderich?"

Feliciano looked worried. "No, I haven't. I did sing the other night, but that was just to make us all happy for a little bit."

Elizaveta patted his shoulder. "I'm not angry if you did enchant him. I adore the change. He's acting almost like he used to, when we were first married and he let me see the softness under that scowl. But still, it's almost like a switch has been flipped. He's just… he's being very _cheerful._ I've _never_ seen him smile this much."

"He still frowns a lot."

"Yes, but not as much as he should. There has to be a reason for this."

"I think he just wants us to be happy. He did bring us all the way here for the ball tonight. It took longer than I'd have liked to get here, but we were right on time!"

"But this isn't like him," Elizaveta said. She bit her lip and huffed, plopping herself down on the bed behind them. "He enjoys festivals, and he enjoys music, but he doesn't enjoy making people happy. I've tried to question him, but I can't get anything out of him."

"He can't be beguiled. If he were, he would obsess over something weird like I did when I was enchanted."

"Maybe he's not being _controlled,_ but there's something very strange happening with that man. I know him. He doesn't just _change._ "

"I really think he's just growing a heart after all this time. I like it. He's finally being nice to me."

"I'll talk to him again. Maybe it's one of Gilbert's curses," she sighed.

"Or maybe… maybe he's falling in love again."

"You're funny," she said between her teeth.

They entered the dining room, and there was Edelstein savoring his cake at the table. He looked at them and frowned.

"Why do you look so disturbed?"

"No reason," Feliciano said.

"Oh, come now. I could hear you through the door. You think I'm acting irrational, is that it? Now, why would I act irrational when I brought you this cake and I'm about to go and buy Eliza a ball gown?"

"You're _what?"_

"I'm going to buy you a ball gown so we can dance tonight. You don't have a nice dress along. I'm also going to buy Feliciano a vest."

"What's the real reason we're here in Fulchen?" Elizaveta seethed.

"For the ball! My lord, if you think my being excited for a ball is irrational, then you yourselves have been acting irrational as well. And I _know_ that much is true. Feliciano, you sulk. Eliza, you say things that don't make any sense. I remembered this ball and thought to myself that it could sort _all_ of us out. Don't you see? We'll dance, drink, have a little fun, and then we'll continue on to Edelweiss with at least a little mirth within us instead of this depressive aura after all the awful strife we've been through."

Elizaveta and Feliciano were stunned. Then the former rolled her eyes and the latter smiled brightly.

"Fine, take me to buy a ball gown. I don't want it tight, and we can skip the crinoline," Eliza said, squeezing the duke's shoulder.

"Right away, dear, oh, er, I mean… Feliciano! The mayor wanted to meet you!"

"The mayor?"

"Yes! Be polite, but if he asks you to sing, don't perform any of those perverted enchantments—"

It was then when Elizaveta dragged him out the door.

* * *

Feliciano ate his sweet slice of cake, then tied the laces under his wings on the fall coat Edelstein had modified for him and set off for the park. He frowned at the sky. The ball was to be held inside due to the cold, but if it rained, everyone would still get wet coming and going from it.

He was too distracted to notice when he smacked into a gnarled old lady and knocked her to the ground. He gasped and instantly bent down to help her. Her bread bag had fallen. He scooped it up, then gently pulled her to her feet.

"I'm sorry. I didn't see you. Here you are," he said as he handed the bread back. He then held himself rigid when he made eye contact with the crone.

She had a _beak._

She hadn't a nose nor lips, but the curved, enameled beak of a parrot sprouting from her face. She clicked it and continued on her way down the street.

Feliciano shook his head. She didn't really have a beak, did she? Going back to gawk at her would be rude. He simply regained his bearings and navigated as quickly as he could to the park.

"I'm looking for the mayor," he told some of the decorators. One of them kindly directed him to a short little building near the clock tower, which housed his office. Feliciano entered and took in the scent of old leather and mold. There were a few paintings, but the majority of the room was dusty and faded, right down to the shaggy old carpet.

"Come in," came a quiet voice.

Feliciano opened a peeling, stained door and found a bald, lanky old man reading a book behind a bureau. A few inkwell pens lay scattered off to the side of his wrinkled hands.

"Ah, you're the fairy, I take it? Yes, I recognize that face, now. Gianfranco Roma."

Feliciano stiffened. He took a seat on a stool opposite the man. "He was my papà. My name is Feliciano. It's nice to meet you."

The old man looked at him with glassy eyes behind smudged spectacles. "Feliciano, is it? I am Holden Speer, but that's a horrendous name, so friends call me Sperling. It means 'sparrow.' I met the Duke of Edelweiss earlier, and he and I somehow came to the topic of your father. He seemed a little cantankerous when I learned you were with him. Your father used to play here in Fulchen. He played at this festival some years ago. It was a tragedy when we all learned he left us. It's so nice to see his face still lives in this world."

And Feliciano thought _he_ had a rambling problem! Still, he could sense no malice about Herr Sperling, so he let the man keep talking.

"You know, this place is known for music. You won't see much of it outside the festivals and concerts, I'm afraid. We're not like Amotoile with all the frivolous street performing, but our school has an impressive little band, and there's a boys' choir that rehearses every Sunday evening. They have just these cute little voices. I don't know if you sing much, but it would be nice if you sang at the ball."

Feliciano opened his mouth.

"It's sad to mention the band, though. They've never been as good or as motivated since Ernst left. He and his wife were truly something getting those kids excited about music—"

"I can sing at the ball for you! Although, I'm not sure if I should. I have the same magic as my papà. I _am_ a fairy. I can make… _magic_ happen when I perform. And I'm not feeling myself lately. I don't want to make anything bad happen. Herr Edelstein doesn't really like it when I do magic, anyway."

The old man fixed his glassy gaze upon Feliciano's features. He laced his fingers and said, "Well, it's not up to Herr Edelstein what you decide to do with yourself. Let me ask you this. Can you make good things happen?"

"Well, usually, I can make people really happy!"

"That's all we need. We're not afraid of magic here. It's only the past that haunts us. Why don't we get some fresh air? I'm sorry this place is stuffy. It's the oldest neighborhood in the city. Funding for renovations is coming in slowly, but I'd prefer to just move my office somewhere else. I can give you a little tour of the place. You'll dance at the ball tonight, won't you?"

"Yeah! I'm just not sure if I'll sing!"

"Oh, you will sing, you will sing. If you're anything like your father—"

Feliciano squealed. Herr Sperling had risen from his desk and limped around to the front. At least, Feliciano _thought_ he was limping until he saw that his pant legs were bent grotesquely backward, and emerging from the cuffs was a pair of clawed, four-toed sparrow feet.

The old man laughed. "You don't expect me to wear shoes, do you? These are a bit hard to cover up."

"You… your legs! And that woman with the beak!"

"My wife, you mean?"

"Your wife?"

"Let's go outside. I have to explain this to everyone, it seems."

They stepped out into the fresh air. Feliciano gulped in the flowery scent, hoping he had just breathed in too much dust, but the mayor's legs remained those of a bird. The two of them began to meander slowly along through the neglected old neighborhood. The clocktower's bell bonged nine times.

"It was a little over ten years ago when he showed up. I was a senior officer and organized the neighborhood watch."

"Who?"

"He called himself the dark wizard Gilbert. His black eagle familiar appeared to us first, swooping and screeching like some kind of foul songbird. Then Gilbert announced his presence to us with the swagger all too common for a cocky young troublemaker. He was dressed in a dark robe with a hood covering his face. We all thought he was a gang member, but then he started playing the flute, and evil, magical curses flew left and right. People were screaming and crying on these very streets. I remember one of my younger men was clutching his shaking legs, so I ran over to him, but I ended up breathing in the same malefic fumes he was, and… well, now I'm taller, and I have an excuse to call myself something other than my real name!"

The dark wizard Gilbert had ravaged this place? He had done _this_ to a man? Feliciano's heart dropped. At least he wasn't the only one hurt by that hideous creature's malice. Gilbert hated humans, and he did something with that hatred. Applying his passion to his work. Sharing his pain with all he deemed inferior to his wicked "awesomeness."

And Alfred said he had a _heart._

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," Feliciano whispered. "I know about the dark wizard Gilbert. He's heartless and cruel and really scary." He placed his hand on Herr Sperling's shoulder, but the man had already gone and started rambling again.

"We haven't seen him again since that night, though we've heard he's done the same thing to other cities. Müldorf across the river was one of his favorite targets. It seemed every year in late April, he'd want to curse a handful of people over there. Not that it mattered to us. Müldorf was always a bit cocky. Now I think Gilbert's calmed down, though. We're only reminded of him by our resident 'grotesques' as Ernst used to call them. We're very friendly grotesques, I assure you! Oh, except for Mathilde. She still smells like birdseed, and she likes to spit on the pigeons that fly near her."

"I hope Gilbert leaves you alone forever!"

"Oh, he's not coming back. Now he's only a mischief-maker in the rural villages. You know, they say he has a cursed beast for a pet."

"Yeah, the dog-man!"

"Herr Hundemann, the farmers call him. They say he can crush a rabbit in one bite, but his breath reeks of _Spargel_. Ah… here we are again. This place looks more and more pathetic every time I walk past it. It was last month when we put this memorial here, but it does little to lighten the mood."

They stood in front of a two-story house wedged in the corner of two streets coming together. A rotting wooden fence with chipping paint guarded it closely. The windows were cracked and dirty, and the little cherub statues at the foot of the door were weathered by years of neglect.

The memorial in front of the gates was brand new, however. It was shaped roughly like a very tall music stand. Engraved in its silver plaque screwed to the top was a remembrance:

 **Ernst und Eloise Waldsänger, Tochter Elise  
** **Ruhet in Frieden**

"Ernst was the bandmaster for almost thirty years, and Eloise was a typist who sang and organized festivals. They kept to themselves, but Fulchen adored them."

"Gilbert killed them!?"

"Oh no, Ernst and Eloise are still alive, just mad. Gilbert somehow got into their house and cursed them to have the brains of chickens. They'll even peck seed out of your hand if you let them. It's the wonderful memories we have of them that we mourn. Each day they grow foggier in our heads. We still don't know what happened to their daughter Elise."

Feliciano bowed his head. "They must have been super nice."

"They were. We tried to hunt Gilbert down for weeks after what he did, but we never found him. That Piyo Fortress of his is tricky to locate. Well, shall I show you where the ball will be held? I really hope you'll sing for us tonight. I remember your father singing. Just the most beautiful voice. He made us all happy, too."

"Really? Well, I suppose you could show me. I do have my lute. And the Duke of Edelweiss plays, too! If I play, you should make him play!"

"Ah, splendid."

They turned back from the ruined house of the Waldsängers and headed back toward the clocktower.

* * *

Arthur looked over at his companion. The white pigeon was puffed up with discomfort. Yet another form of proof that Gilbert, despite his good heart, was a smiling villain. This time, the gray pigeon shifted over and stroked the white feathers with a wing.

 _"_ _Woooo,"_ he said, and it meant, "No hard feelings, lad, but with Gilbert's convictions, the title of 'dark wizard' isn't just a title."

They were perched on a gutter overlooking the street where Feliciano and the bird-legged man had just been. Across from them, the dark shape of the eagle inched around the chimney. It gazed back at them with its golden eyes and fluffed its feathers in warning.

 _"_ _Coo-coo-coo,"_ Arthur said, strutting around like the stupid bird he appeared to be. He wondered, briefly, if he could find that woman who smelled like birdseed. The pigeon body loved bread far more than his fairy body. Would birdseed smell simply intoxicating? Would she _taste_ like birdseed? Should he embrace these wonderings or stick to strictly thinking like a man and not a bird?

 _SCREECH!_

The eagle had leapt from its perch and was now soaring toward them with the spark of a predator in its eyes. It raked its talons forward and angled its wings to strike.

Arthur jumped up and flapped, propelling himself forward with a cooing, whirring sound. He felt Alfred grace the air near him, but he could tell already the white pigeon was struggling to gain speed after such a big breakfast.

 _Good queen, it's my fault you had to take the form of the fat one,_ he thought gravely. He dipped his wings and dove under a footbridge linking two tenement buildings. His chest strained, and his little heart drummed. He heard the whooshing of giant wings closing in on him. The raptor screeched again and grabbed for his body. A few gray feathers were torn from his tail. He dove and swerved around the front of a building, narrowly missing a lamppost.

 _Alfred!? Oh, good, you're still following me. And that thing is following us! Where can we hide!?_

He remembered the clock tower. The bell was huge, and one would need to be pigeon-sized to fit under it! Arthur looked up, but he had flown too low to see where the tower could be. He was no longer even in the neighborhood where the tower stood. Where to hide!? How to escape!?

And then he felt it. A sort of _pulsing,_ as if a coil wrapped around his body were stretching and contracting in reaction to a network of coils extending invisibly in infinite directions all around him _._ His beak felt heavy, and some new part of his brain began firing. Without his command, Arthur's body swerved back in the opposite direction. He flew up and over the raptor, straining his wings to take him higher.

Alfred was right behind him, though Arthur knew he was suffering. He cooed tiredly and flapped slower than before.

 _Do you want to be eagle food!? Just follow me! I've got some sort of weird magic pulling me this way! It's like a… a "pigeon sense!"_

He sensed the coils tightening and loosening. His brain began to recognize the rhythms. The earth pulsed beneath him. It showed him a map, and he followed each mental impulse as it came and went. His synapses exploded with information. The earthly force tugged him over clotheslines and around trees until the red brick of the clock tower came into view.

Without delay, he spiraled up its height. His wings whirred like leaves in a gale as he climbed. The eagle fought to lift its weight to the same altitude. As soon as Arthur reached the alcove above the clock, he scurried under the bell and flew up inside. He waited, his heart beating madly in his chest and his orange eyes bulging in terror.

Alfred never followed.

 _No, please, you can't be too fat to fit in here,_ he thought. He slowed his frantic wings and landed under the bell. Cautiously, he waddled to the edge and poked his head out.

The black eagle stood smugly on the edge of the alcove. It squeezed Alfred in one clawed foot while he squeaked in pain. The eagle clicked its beak, then snapped teasingly at the plump little pigeon.

 _Let him go!_ Arthur cried. But the bird couldn't hear him. No one could hear him. The eagle squeezed even tighter. Alfred gave a garbled squawk. His tail hung like a loose flag behind him.

 _You've got to transform, Alfred! Take your own eagle form! Quickly! Oh, what the hell? I've got to be brave! Face my fear!_

With that, he squeezed under the bell and flew right at the eagle's face, pecking and cooing angrily. He beat his wings, cursing the foul raptor with every awful phrase his mother used to pinch his ears for using, and even some Herschel had so creatively used against him in the dream. The eagle snapped at his wings and clawed at his chest. He felt some part of him tear and chirped in pain.

ZING! BANG! BANG!

An arrow struck the bell behind the frenzy. A few bullets lodged themselves in the mortar between the bricks.

 _"_ _Tötet den schwarzen Adler!"_

 _Ja,_ Arthur thought just before the black eagle vanished into the glow of a color he'd never seen before. It was sort of… orangish? But at the same time purple? Alfred was right. It didn't look like any color he could describe.

Unfortunately, when the eagle disappeared, Alfred was left dangling in the air out of breath. The white pigeon tumbled down, down, down.

 _Alfred!_

Arthur dove and whizzed his wings. He wasn't an eagle, but he could try his hardest to catch his friend! The wind tousled his feathers and stung his eyes. The ground raced toward him, and even faster toward Alfred. He raked out his toes and grabbed hold of the other's back pudge just before he hit the street, then strained his whole body to lift them. The white pigeon was as heavy as granite. Arthur's shoulders popped. If he had teeth, he would've gritted them.

They slid into a flower bed just under the fountain and tumbled over each other until coming to rest at the feet of a certain trembling Allegrian. Feliciano noticed the small _thump_ and looked, startled, at the poor pigeons bleeding and stained with soil.

"Eh! Poor birdies!" He cried as he knelt to examine them. "You're hurt! That giant eagle almost _ate_ you!"

 _"_ _Coo-roo-woo,"_ Arthur said, shivering at the feeling of Feliciano's fingers rubbing along his back. He told himself he would apologize to Alfred profusely later for snuggling him.

"Wait a minute," Feliciano said. He cupped a pigeon in each hand and scrutinized their quivering bodies. "That bouncy feather on you, and those fuzzy markings above your eyes… are you…!? Of course! I'll take you home and fix you up, okay? No worries! Just hold on! Don't die, okay? I'm right here!"

He slipped the two of them under his coat and held them tightly to his chest.

 _"_ _Woo,"_ Alfred whimpered weakly on the other side of the buttons. In that one simple syllable, he professed a sense of unwavering fright Arthur never would have guessed the changeling could harbor within him.

 _"_ _Cooooo,"_ Arthur told him. "It'll be all right. Keep powering through."

* * *

 **~N~**

 **Pigeons can find their way around by sensing the Earth's magnetic fields via specialized brain cells and particles in their beaks! An animal superpower!**

 **A new Fataverse one-shot is out now!**

 _„_ _Mama! Mama! Schau mal! Die Tauben lieben das Schwarzbrot!"_ "Mama! Look! The pigeons love the rye bread!"

 _„Fütter ihn nicht. Er ist fett,"_ "Don't feed him. He's fat."

 **Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net April 23rd, 2019. Reposters will be transmuted into bread and gobbled up by fat, hungry birds.**


End file.
